


Truly, Madly, Deeply

by salamnderginger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-03-07 02:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamnderginger/pseuds/salamnderginger
Summary: “Heroes are made by the path they choose, not the powers they are graced with.” – Iron Man“Please tell me you still have something to get us off this roof in one piece.” Another alien goes down, but Morgan hardly even notices when another one steps in to take its place it’s happened often enough it seems almost normal. Clint’s lack of a response is starting to freak her out. All she can hear is him messing with the myriad of buttons on his bow. She’s about to speak again, louder this time, when she feels him wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her as close to him as he can. It’s intimate, the closest they’ve been since he’d woken up in the med bay on the Heli-Carrier, and Morgan’s chest hurts thinking about it. It shouldn’t, it never has before, but it does.“This might get messy.” His lips quirk up into that unmistakable grin of his and Morgan’s gut twists once before then they’re leaping off the roof.





	1. Author's Notes

**Author’s Note:** This ‘chapter’ is going to be the only author’s note you’ll see on this whole story. I’ll use this space as a general announcement board of sorts, should I ever feel the need to let my readers know something. You’ll know to check here if there is an * symbol at the end of a chapter!

Now with that out of the way. Welcome to _Truly, Madly, Deeply_! This is an idea I’ve been batting around for months now. I can only assume it was born out of my mandatory Avenger’s re-watch before Endgame was released. Hawkeye has always been one of my favorites, even if he’s more often forgotten than remembered. This fic is 100% MCU based but I’ve thrown in a dash of the 2013 comics by Matt Fraction and David Aja to keep things fresh. The only _major_ changes I’ve made that my readers should know is that, yes, Hawkeye is mostly deaf in this story. I feel one of the great disservices the MCU did for Hawkeye was leave that out of Clint’s story line. So, because this was written for purely selfish reasons…I’m going to rectify that. And that, obviously, Clint isn’t married to Laura. It’s never out right specified in the movies but for reference Clint and my OC will be in their early thirties!

For future reference, anything done in ASL will be in bold text to help you differentiate what’s spoken a loud and what is not.

I have absolutely no set schedule on when I will be posting updates right now. My life is exceedingly busy sometimes. But I do promise not to keep you waiting more than a month.

If you are _not_ a fan of Original Characters, let alone Canon/OC pairings, then stop right here. That’s what this fic is, was, and will _always_ be about. Comments are always welcome, but hate will be ignored.

 ---

* **CHAPTER ONE:** I know this first chapter probably feels a little disjointed but I A.) Wanted to give you a taste of what’s to come and B.) Give you the necessary backstory to understand the core mechanics of the relationships. We’ll get to MCU plot lines in the next chapter, but you can totally expect a fair deal of flashbacks as we progress.

 ***CHAPTER THREE:** I went back and added some missing dialogue from chapter two. It was nothing important but it needed to be there anyways. Don't ask me how it got deleted. I have no idea. lol

 ***CHAPTER SIX:** We broke 100 hits! I...won't lie. Totally did a little jig when it happened. I'm so glad you all are reading this, or, at least giving it a try. Sorry about the wait between chapters too. Between being busy and absolutely _dissatisfied_ with this chapter as a whole...I spent more time with it than I wanted to. The next couple of chapters are starting to look relatively backstory heavy so I hope you're all ready for that!

 ***CHAPTER SEVEN:** I struggled with where to end this one. My first initial write up had it ending much, much sooner but it felt too short and honestly? I wanted to keep things moving along. I am...inordinately excited to finally spend some time writing the trio as a group now that the gang is back together. 

 ***CHAPTER EIGHT:** Sorry for the delay. It's currently a very busy time in my life and finding time to sit down and write has been...difficult. That being said this chapter fought me from the get go. I knew what I wanted but trying to find out how I got there took me ages. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter's pacing but for now it'll be fine. But it's top of my priority to rewrite it once I wrap up the first part of this fic. Maybe sooner. Who knows. I'm just excited to get to the fun parts of the movie honestly. Hope you're all enjoying!


	2. Chapter One *

**PART ONE – TRULY**

 

 _“I was falling. Falling through time and space and stars and sky and everything in between. I fell for days and weeks and what felt like lifetime across lifetimes. I fell until I forgot I was falling.”_ \- Jess Rothenberg

 

**New York, 2012**

This looked bad.

More than bad really. It looked a lot like the end of the world and Morgan was greeting it armed with nothing more than a handful of knives and her fists. Not exactly what she’d call alien invasion worthy equipment, but she’d dealt with less before. And these aliens are easy enough to take down anyways. A good right hook and a few solid kicks and they’re twitching on the ground like any other human. And the roof is littered with their bodies now, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping the oncoming approach. They climb over them like they aren’t even there. HYDRA agents showed more compassion, usually. And Morgan is starting to flag, she’s bloodied and bruised to the point she can’t even feel her hands.

“I don’t know about you, Clint, but if we stay up here much longer these aliens are going to overwhelm us.” She forces the words out around her panting, dodging in between the flurry of attacks. One grazes her side and she growls, twisting away from it and throwing her last knife into its chest. “Fuck’s sake.”

“I’m almost out of arrows too.”

“Please tell me you still have something to get us off this roof in one piece.” Another alien goes down, but Morgan hardly even notices when another one steps in to take its place it’s happened often enough it seems almost normal. Clint’s lack of a response is starting to freak her out. All she can hear is him messing with the myriad of buttons on his bow. She’s about to speak again, louder this time, when she feels him wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her as close to him as he can. It’s intimate, the closest they’ve been since he’d woken up in the med bay on the Heli-Carrier, and Morgan’s chest hurts thinking about it. It shouldn’t, it never has before, but it does.

“This might get messy.” His lips quirk up into that unmistakable grin of his and Morgan’s gut twists once before then they’re leaping off the roof. They dangle, suspended above the destroyed streets of Manhattan, for only a moment before Clint twists his body and they’re swinging back towards the building. She _hates_ when he does this. She closes her eyes and buries her face in his neck as he ducks down, blasting his way through the large glass windows and tumbling to a less than graceful pile on the floor. Morgan groans. If it didn’t hurt before…it sure hurt now. She holds her head up long enough to assess that Clint seems unharmed and drops it back down with a thud and another groan.

“Clint?” He gives no reaction, he either doesn’t hear her or he’s pretending he can’t. Nothing new there. To make matters worse hasn’t moved much, still mostly on top of her. His proximity is…equal parts great and not great. He grunts as he moves, getting his hands under him just enough to push the top half of his body off her. “Clint.”

“Yeah?” His eyes are a little unfocused, like he might’ve hit it on the landing. Good. A concussion would serve him right after pulling off that stunt.

“I thought we’d agreed that shit like that belonged in Hollywood.”

“Hey! It worked didn’t it?

\----

**Unknown, 2008**

“Morgan Adelaide Young.” The man’s voice is emotionless, but not cold. It’s like he’s simply giving a subordinate in the Army orders or something. And that’s what freaks her out the most. She can’t tell if this man is angry, impressed, or anything else. She’s flying blind. And hates that. “Twenty-four years old. Born in Illinois. Went to Pana Senior Highschool, didn’t graduate with any honors.” He clucks his tongue and she cocks her eyebrow at him, anyone with a computer and internet access could find that out about her. The man grins and she can tell he’s playing with her. “Mom and dad weren’t around much growing up, too busy trying to scrape together a living for their daughter. Mom worked a dead-end job at the local bar, dad worked on and off in construction. Mom died in a car wreck and dad spun out of control. You turned eighteen and ran as far away from it all as you could. Smart. You’re trained in all _popular_ forms of hand-to-hand combat, right?” He makes the word popular sound as if that’s a bad thing as he crosses the room, nearer to her. And he doesn’t wait for her to nod. “Why are you here Ms. Young?”

“Because I have something you need.”

“And what, pray tell, would a vagabond like you know that I don’t?”

“I know where HYDRA is.”

The man smiles and while its edges are sharp there’s a distant kind of warmth in it too. And the he laughs. Morgan refuses to show how offer kilter this makes her, keeping her face stony and her foot still. She won’t give him that satisfaction. “Congratulations, Ms. Young, you’ve passed.”

There’s no hiding the look of shock that settles across her face. This isn’t at all what she’d thought he was going to say. “What do you mean I passed?”

“You passed.” The man says again, as if that’s all the information she needs to know. He waves to someone behind her and a man with sandy blonde hair emerges from the darkness, a half-amused smirk on his face. She hadn’t even known he was there! “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. Morgan. I think you’ll fit in just fine here.” He turns away from her, heading towards the door. “Un-cuff her and show her to her room, Agent Barton, I’m sure she’s tired.” And then he was gone. Morgan stares after him in confusion, none of this made any sense and the back of her head throbbed where she’d been hit earlier. She has to crane her neck to see the other man now, he’s moved to stand behind her and knowing she can’t see him makes her skin crawl.

“Impressive.” His voice is lower than she expected. “Not many new recruits leave this phase of recruitment having impressed Fury. Last one that did that was Hill.”

Morgan still doesn’t understand but what she does know is that he’s stalling. She gives her handcuffs a definitive clank on the table and looks at him with more confidence than she actually has. “I’m pretty sure he said you could take these off me now.” The man’s smirk turns into a grin. She hates him.

“I know. I’m just not sure that you won’t punch me if I do.”

“I’m not going to punch you.” Morgan rolls her eyes and pointedly rattles her handcuffs again. Not _yet_ at least.

\---

**St. Petersburg, 2009**

“ **This doesn’t _feel_ right, Morgan.**” Clint signs, not stopping his pacing. If he doesn’t stop soon Morgan is genuinely concerned that he’ll wear a trench into the floor. And S.H.I.E.L.D. always gets their panties in a bunch when they have to pay for superfluous damages like that. She doesn’t try to stop him though, there’s no point.

 **“What do you mean?”** She doesn’t take her eyes off the prize, a rather bloodied looking red head. She’s killed hundreds of people. An assassin trained by the ever-elusive Red Room if their sources are to be believed. Just looking at her makes Morgan nervous. They should kill her before she wakes up again. If they lose her a second time, they won’t get lucky again. Clint huffs, signing furiously.

**“All of this.”**

**“Very specific.”**

Clint glares at her, finally stopping to stare at the woman across the room. He’s thinking about something. She lets him. If she’s learned anything in the past two years, it’s that Clint’s best thoughts are the ones he’s given time to think over first. She picks up on of the arrows spread on the bed, twirling it in her fingers, waiting. She doesn’t have to wait long before he’s turning back to her again. **“I think we should recruit her.”**

 **“Excuse me?”** Morgan’s shock is evident, she almost forgets to hold her tongue. Sure, she might _look_ like she’s sleeping but they’re playing it safe just in case. That was genuinely the last thing she expected Clint to say, hell, saying they should let her go ranked higher. Clint rubs his temples and turns back to look at the woman again. He’s agitated. Morgan waits a beat long before rising silently from the bed and putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. **“It’s not like she’s going anywhere. May as well ask, right?”**

Clint doesn’t say anything and just nods in agreement, letting out a heavy sigh as he walks towards the chair, shaking it. “Hey. Come on. Wake up. She didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“Pretty sure I hit her that hard.” Clint glares at her over his shoulder before turning back to her as she lifts her head up. She doesn’t even pretend to be groggy. Ballsy. “Good morning Sleeping Beauty.”

“What’s your name?” Clint asks, carefully staying out of arms reach, even though her arms are tied behind her back. She doesn’t respond, just stares at them. Morgan sighs and moves back to the bed. The silence between them stretches out, Morgan wants to fidget but she resists. Showing signs of weakness now would be detrimental. It’s a surprise when she speaks up, her voice soft and tired.

“Natasha.”

 ---

**Chicago, 2011**

“I can’t get away.” Natasha’s voice is low, Morgan almost doesn’t hear her. “They’ve got men at every damn exit to this place. I need a distraction.”

Morgan leisurely pulls her phone out of her pocket, looking at it for a moment before pretending to dial a number and putting the phone to her ear. “Distraction? I can totally get you one of those. Clint. Where are you?” She’s already moving, she’s got a vague idea of where he is and besides that, she could pick him out of a crowd in a heartbeat.

“Gate C.”

“Perfect.” It’s difficult to keep the smile off her face. If there’s one thing Morgan excels at, it’s creating an interesting distraction. “When I get there, I want you to hit me.”

“Excuse me?”

“ _Hit. Me._ ” She pockets her phone and pushes her fingers though her hair before wiping vigorously at the scant make up on her face. It’d sell better if she had runny mascara, but she can make do. She rubs until her eyes hurt and then she rounds the corner towards the gate, instantly finding Clint casually leaning against a pole.

“I’m not going to _hit you_ , Morgan.” She barely sees his lips move but she ignores him anyways, launching herself at him and wailing at the top of her lungs. If the sudden movement didn’t alert anyone something was happening her sobbing sure did.

“You liar! You dirty, rotten, horse shit liar!” She’s beating on his chest with her fists. He probably barely feels them. The look of surprise on his face doesn’t go away as soon as she’d have liked, the sooner he picks up on what she’s doing the better it’ll go. He grabs for her wrists, missing the first couple of tries before wrapping his fingers around them. Tight enough she can’t move them, but it doesn’t hurt. She can feel the callouses on his fingers. “You swore you’d be faithful! Swore you’d stop flying to fucking… _Singapore_ to fuck the whores there! You promised!”

Clint is pushing her away now, but Morgan’s let her head flop forward as she cries, hair obscuring her face. “Woman. Why the hell are you here?” Clint’s pitches his voice lower than usual and it sends a thrill down Morgan’s spine. “I told you this morning I’m going on a business trip for work. To Denver. I haven’t been to Singapore in months.”

“Liar! You liar!” She throws herself at him again, breaking though for a spilt second before Clint’s fingers tighten around her wrists again. People are starting to stare now, men in black uniforms are moving…but not fast enough. “I called your work. You were let go two weeks ago! _You fucking liar_! I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to take your balls and chop them—”

He slaps her. Morgan is, at first, totally surprised by it. Sure, she’d _told_ him to do it but that doesn’t make it any less surprising. And her genuine shock and hurt is the last nail in this distractions coffin.

“Damn. He actually did it.” Nat’s voice is light and the hint of laughter in her tone is almost enough to get Morgan to break character. Almost. Clint doesn’t even blink but there’s no mistaking the dark look on his face. It makes him look angry, and maybe he is, but not for the reasons everyone thinks he is. Morgan shrinks away from him and he lets her pull her arms free. She wraps one arm around her middle and the other hand goes up to tenderly touch her face. It burns. She stares at him, heartbroken. Clint’s face gets even darker. “I’m out. Rendezvous at the hotel.”

Morgan takes that as her cue to turn on her heel and bolt for the exit. People try to stop her, one man in black fatigues nearly gets her but she’s able to bounce off a wall and he misses. It’s easy enough to get lost in the crowds outside, Chicago is a great place for fading into the background, something Morgan has been trained to do and do well. She fixes her hair and uses her sleeve to wipe up her make up and tears. Within seconds she’s just another face on the street. So the hand on her elbow almost startles her. Only Clint and Natasha do that to her though and she slows to match Clint’s more leisurely pace. He casually throws his arm over her shoulders and she leans into him. It sells the bit…but she wants to too. They walk in silence for a while, ambling nowhere and towards the hotel at the same time.

“Don’t ever ask me to do that again.”

\---

**New York, 2012**

“I hate being left behind. Are you sure you can’t convince Fury you need me with you…wherever he’s sending you now?” Morgan asks, jumping up to sit on top of Clint’s dresser. Clint rolls his eyes and pushes her legs to the side as he opens one of the drawers.

“I already told you. He wouldn’t have it. Said something about needing to keep things discreet. Hell, if he knew that you even knew about this I’d probably be out of a job.”

“Let’s be honest, Hawkman.” Clint shoots her a look over his shoulder and Morgan just smirks at him. “We’ve done way worse shit than spill top secret things to each other.”

“True. But also…It’s Fury. I hate pissing off Fury.”

“ _Fine._ ” Morgan didn’t actually think Clint had any sway over mission assignments, she just wished he and Nat weren’t out without her at the same time. It made her exceedingly nervous. “But you and Nat better tell me everything when you get back. I think I’m still being punished for how everything shook out in New Mexico.”

“I will have you know that it was not for science at all. He snuck up on me.”

“Uh huh.” Clint zips up his bag and stands, he looks good in his new uniform. “I have to go. Wheels up in ten minutes. Coming to see me off?”

“Of course.” She slides off the dresser and easily matches pace with Clint, grabbing his bow before he can and darting out of the room. Clint follows, unaffected. He has others. They don’t talk much as they walk the short distance from the housing wing of the Heli-Carrier to the runway, it’s the kind of silence that works for them. Neither tense nor awkward. They pull to a stop outside of the plane and she pushes his bow into his chest with no warning. She’d never admit it out loud, let alone in public, but something about this mission has her on edge, enough so that she holds his bow to his chest a little longer than necessary. Clint cocks his head as he wraps his hand around the one, she’s using to hold the bow. He gives it a gentle squeeze and she finally lets it go. Clint is…Clint. He’ll be fine.

“You good?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Her voice is steady, normal, no hint of her rush of anxiety. “Just going to miss your stupid face is all.”

"Hey!” But Clint’s grinning as he backs into the belly of the plane, hand hovering over the door controls. He’s stalling. Morgan brightens her smile and steps back a few steps. The pilot shouts something over his shoulder and Clint nods once as he slips his bow over shoulder.

**“Come back safe, okay?”**

**“For you? Of course.”** Morgan’s chest hurts when he signs that and by the time, she thinks of something to say back Clint’s closed the doors and the plane is pulling away to go god knows where.

And Morgan’s stomach is still in knots about it days later.


	3. Chapter Two

**New York, 2012**

_Two weeks._ It had been two weeks since Clint had been assigned a solo mission and Morgan hadn’t heard a sound from him since. Hell, Natasha was in a deep cover situation in Ukraine and she heard from her at least once a week. It had to be big. Big time big if Clint wasn’t allowed to touch base. Or, in a slightly more realistic view, Fury had forbidden him because he knew keeping secrets was not one of Clint’s strengths. Clint was good at a great many things; he was not good at lying to people. It made Morgan’s skin crawl. And to make matters worse she wasn’t allowed to leave base for some god forsaken reason. New Mexico had been months ago. Months. And just because big, tall, and blonde had managed to give her one hell of a concussion. She’d even missed the giant death robot situation, punishment enough if you asked her. And yet, here she was, punching the hell out of a training dummy at base. Alone.

The glamorous life of an international, super-secret, intelligence agency.

“Do you think if you punch it hard enough, you’ll win?”

“No. But I was hoping to break this seam up here.” She motions vaguely to an unraveling thread near the top of the bag.

“You do know that would be the second one this month, right?”

“Yeah? Your point?” Morgan says, catching the bag on its upswing and holding it still, finally turning to look at the voice. Sharon Carter. Legacy kid. Good at what she does. Morgan likes her…most days anyways. Sharon just laughs and pulls her phone out of her pocket.

“No point. But we both know how mad S.H.I.E.L.D. gets when we break something.”

“Touché.” Morgan concedes, backing away from the punching back and turning around to face her, arms dangling at her sides. “You here to train?”

“Not really.”

“Oh?”

“You’re being put on active duty again. Personal request of Director Fury.” Morgan doesn’t try to hide how excited hearing that makes her, bouncing up onto her toes.

“Seriously? Jesus it’s about time.” She’s unwrapping her hands with deft fingers, already running through what she could possibly be doing. She doesn’t usually get sent out alone.

“I don’t know all the details but they’re calling in back up out in the Mojave. Barton said he wouldn’t work with anyone else.”

 _Clint._ Morgan hides her smile poorly as she turns to drop her dirty hand wrappings in a nearby trashcan. There’s enough excitement at pushing through her she can’t stay still. “What else can you tell me?”

“Not much. Fury was tight lipped. They’re studying something out there, I think. Calling in top tier agents on and off.” She explains as Morgan bustles about the room. Not doing anything but not willing to stay still either. “What I do know for sure is it’s wheels up for you in an hour. If you’re not on time…”

“They leave without you.” Morgan turns to smile at her once before taking off for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll be early.” He gives Sharon a mock salute as she walks out of the room and waits just long enough for the door to shut behind her before she darts off at top speed through the halls. She’s packed and on the tarmac in record time, not that the jet will leave any sooner than scheduled, but Morgan didn’t much care.

 

\---

**Mojave Desert, 2012**

When Morgan arrives, the base is in chaos, not a good sign. She doesn’t need to hear to know that it’s in the middle of an evacuation procedure. What makes her even more nervous is the calm and collected group of people that meet her on the runway. They offer little in the way of greeting, Agent Coulson gives her a tight-lipped smile and that’s it before Nick Fury has them sweeping across the grounds at a brisk pace.

“How bad is it?” Fury must shout to be heard over the wailing sirens, it’s probably the second time she’s ever heard him raise his voice.

“That’s the problem sir. We don’t know.” Coulson says, looking back over his shoulder at Fury as he says it. Morgan doesn’t know if she should arm herself but her fingers dance across the back of her gun in pent up agitation.

“What exactly is going on here?” Morgan asks. She hates not knowing things when she’s dumped in the middle of potentially bad situations. And this? This looked bad in every way possible. No one answers her and for a moment she considers letting it go, she’s just muscle after all, but she can’t. “Hello?”

“Agent Young.”  Coulson’s voice is not nearly as awe inspiring as Fury’s but it’s enough to get Morgan to reconsider bringing it up. “There’s a lot happening here right now. And explaining what this facility is for does not rank very high on the list of current issues to discuss.” He stabs a finger into the elevator call button and doesn’t look back as he continues talking. “Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract about four hours ago.”

“No one authorized Dr. Selvig to go into the testing phase.”

“He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. It was a spontaneous event.”

“So, it just turned itself on?” Agent Hill asks, she’s not as good at remaining calm as the other two, Morgan can hear the barest hint of fear in her voice. She doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but if it’s got Hill rattled…She pulls out one of her knives to calm her nerves.

“What are the energy levels now?”

“Climbing.” They pick up the pace, not quite running but close enough that it’s obvious they’re in a rush because something is wrong. “When we couldn’t shut it down, we ordered the evacuation.”

“How long until we can get everyone out?”

“Campus should be clear in the next half hour.”

“Do better.” Coulson nods and peels off from the group to go do god knows what and Fury motions for Agents Hill and Morgan to follow him through an unassuming sort of door that leads into a large, spiral staircase down. Ten seconds pass before Morgan finds her voice.

“Evacuation may be futile…sir.”

“So, we should tell them to go back to sleep?”

“I agree.” Agent Hill says, startling Morgan for a fraction of a second. “If we can’t control the energy from the Tesseract there might not be a minimum safe distance.”

“I need you to make sure the phase two prototypes are shipped out.” Fury doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact that whatever is happening here could potentially be catastrophic. His usual lack of empathy or concern for these things has always made Morgan’s skin crawl. Nick Fury is a good man, she’s never doubted that, but he’s never been very good at proving his good either.

“But sir…Is that really a priority right now?” That makes Nick stop, Morgan almost runs into him.

“Until the world ends, we’re going to continue to act as if it will continue to spin on. Clear out the tech.” He’s moving again and Morgan follows. “Every bit of phase two on a truck and gone.”

“Yes, sir.” Agent Hill’s voice is tight and it’s obvious to Morgan Fury has insulted her. She peels off from them, waving over a small collection of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to follow her.

“You’re with me, Agent Young.”

“Director Fury what’s going on here? What’s a Tesseract?”

“Stay by the door.” Is all he says in response as they walk into a large room with vaulted ceilings. It’s full to the brim with computers and other assorted things, most of which Morgan barely understands. But the most notable thing about the room is the large blue object in the middle of it. It’s bright blue and pulsing at irregular rhythms. Morgan trades her knife for her gun. She scans the room, on edge, Fury is talking to the doctor from New Mexico about something as men in lab coats dart around the room. They’re trying but it the grim looks on their faces mean anything it’s not going well. “Agent Barton, report. Agent Young, to me.” Fury’s voice somehow sounds more commanding when it comes through their earpieces. Morgan wastes no time in leaving her post, carefully and regretfully putting her gun away as she walks. She gets to Fury just before Clint lands on the ground in front of them. Nick wastes no time in moving forward again. “I gave you this assignment so you could keep a close eye on things here.”

“Well, I see better from a distance.” Clint’s voice helps smooth over the frazzled edges of her nerves as she pulls up to walk next to Nick Fury, Clint on the other side.

“Have you seen anything that might set this thing off?”

“No one’s come and gone. And Selvig’s clean. No contacts, no IM’s. Nothing.” They’ve walked back to the Tesseract now and Morgan elects to stare at it rather a moment. It’s beautiful, whatever it is. Beautiful and dangerous. “If there’s any contamination it’s not on this end.”

That catches Morgan’s attention, she turns away from the cube to look at Clint, cocking her head to the side. “At this end?”

“Yeah. The cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right?” Clint makes it sound like it’s simple. “Doors open from both sides.” That thought sends chills down her spin. The Tesseract flashes brightly and the whole building seems to shake in its wake. Not good. Decidedly not good. The flashing and shaking only seem to get worse the longer they stand there and Morgan sinks into a more combat oriented stance. She’s not getting caught off guard by space people this time around.

In an instant the Tesseract flashes blindingly and a large blue beam of energy sparks from the center of it, traveling the length of the room before stopping and crating what Morgan can only describe as a large hole of nothingness. She can’t tell if it’s spots in her vision or actual stars as the hole opens wider and wider, but she doesn’t get much longer to look before there’s another flash of blinding light and a vicious burst of hot wind behind it. On instinct she closes her eyes and moves to stand between Fury and the light. When she opens them there’s a man standing in a weak halo of blue fire. Her fingers dance above the ends of her knives.

It’s Fury who speaks first. “Sir, please put down the spear.” The man looks at Fury briefly before looking at the wicked looking weapon in his hands like he hadn’t known it was there before. Morgan watches him, wary. He gives no warning when he lifts the spear and thrusts it towards them, a wave of…something flying towards them. It’s Clint that gets his bearing back first, shoving both Fury and Morgan out of the way and onto the ground. The impact is enough to bring Morgan back to herself, already rolling with it and back onto the balls of her feet, pistol in hand and trained where the man was. Except he was already flying, green cape billowing out behind him. He stabs one man in the chest before deflecting the bullets away from him. Morgan shoots at him regardless, she might get lucky. Every shot bounce away harmlessly. Another burst of energy sends her sprawling and it takes her a moment to get back to her feet. That had _hurt_. She’s on her knees when she sees Clint with the man’s spear touching his chest, it’s enough to get her to her feet in an instant.

“Clint!” There’s no response, her stomach falls through the floor. She starts moving towards him when he whips out his bow and points it at her. He’s pointed his bow at her before, but never in the field. Only ever in the safety of a training facility. And never with the deadly sharp point that’s pointed at her now. “Clint?”

He fires it.


	4. Chapter Three *

**New York, 2008**

“For the last time, Agent Young. I am not going to fight you with my bow.”

“Why not?” It’s not the first time they’ve had this argument. Every time she sees him in the training room she asks. And every time he tells her the same thing. There’s no need, it’s dangerous, he doesn’t want to. She’s determined to make him crack. If she’s going to be the best, she needed to learn how to defend against _everything_. Even other agents. Thinking about it, the idea probably offended him, it would offend her, but she was determined now, if anything. “And don’t give me the same boring answers you always give me.”

“Then I won’t give you any.” He shrugs and turns back to his stretches clearly over the conversation. Morgan crosses her arms.

“It’s because you’re scared isn’t it?” She doesn’t honestly think he’s scared, but if he’s like all the other men working for S.H.I.E.L.D. being called a wimp gets them to do things they normally don’t. Clint, however, has no reaction. It’s almost like he’s turned off his hearing aids again. He’s done that to Morgan more times than she wants to admit. She’s learning how to sign for that very reason, although she hasn’t revealed that to anyone just yet. “Okay, fine. You’re not scared. But I still don’t see why you won’t even try. You can put blunt tips on your arrows and if I get hit it’s my fault. Not that I’ll get hit though.”

Clint looks up again, eyes flat. “You’re never going to give up, are you?”

“I want to be the best.”

Clint smirks at her. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if… _when_ I hit you. And I will hit you. You’ll stop asking me.”

Morgan was caught totally off guard; she’d dug her heels in for another fight and got…nothing. She’s so flipped around she’s not sure if she should be angry or excited. “Wait. Seriously? No. Wait. Don’t answer that. You’re not allowed to take it back now.” The excitement is settling in, she bounces to the tip of her toes. “Let’s do it now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now. No taking it back allowed.” Clint groans as he steps away from her towards his gear locker. Morgan goes to her own, pulling out a handful of dummy knives. They don’t speak as they walk towards a more secluded training room, Morgan doesn’t have much to say and she doubts Clint has anything to say either. The training room is spartan, designed for things just like this rather than the usual fare of sparring and boxing. It’s perfect. Morgan’s the first inside, moving to the other side of the room and sinking into a squat stance. Clint says nothing as the door clicks shut behind him, but his fingers are dancing above the knocks of his arrows. Neither of them says anything for a long, long moment. And then he’s moving, spinning to face her, bow loaded and pointed right at her chest. Morgan grins and twirls one of her knives. “Show me what this Hawkeye business is all about, would you?”

He fires it.

It’s all Morgan can do to get out of the way, rolling to the left and popping back up as she throws on of her knives as Clint. He doesn’t even bat an eye as he steps out of the way, another arrow already loaded on the string. He fires three in rapid succession before Morgan gets enough wits about her to dodge and attack. She darts closer to him, swinging out her leg to take his out. She misses but she’s too close for him to fire another arrow at her now. It doesn’t phase Clint though, using his bow as a weapon he swings it at her, narrowly missing her head as she rolls around him. She’s sparred Barton before, she’d made a point of doing it since she’d been given the clearance to do so. But she’s never sparred him with his bow and it’s clearly what he’s best at. It’s like that bow and those arrows are an extension of him. He uses them like Morgan uses her knives or her fists. It’s an amazing feat. By the time Clint’s run out of arrows they’re both panting and sporting bruises.

“Now. Now I think I get it.” Morgan doesn’t dare put her hands on her knees and bend over like she wants to, she keeps her eyes firmly trained on the man in front of her. “Let’s do it again. Until you hit me, right?”

\---

**Mojave Desert, 2012**

She almost doesn’t get out of the way in time, Clint’s arrow slicing past her upper arm. The cut is superficial, but deep, and it burns. Morgan’s too surprised to do more than hiss at the pain. Clint looks at her, his eyes a startlingly bright blue, there’s nothing there. No hint of emotion. Nothing. He stares at her a moment long before walking away. “Sir, Directory Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow.” She’d missed what had been happening behind them, the man from earlier seems to have made a small following of blue-eyed slaves. Morgan doesn’t move any closer, Clint let her live…she’s not going to ruin that by announcing her prescience…and the last thing they need right now is another compromised agent. “He’s going to drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

“Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right. The portal’s collapsing on itself. We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.” Selvig says, standing up from one of the few remaining computer monitors. Not good. Morgan goes to move but Fury catches her eye and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. She stays, although every fiber of her being is telling her to move. Get away. Find safety. Save Clint.

“Barton.” There’s no hesitation when Clint unholsters his pistol and fires it at Fury. Morgan has no time to react before the deed is done. She moves quietly as the team of people move out, Tesseract in hand, her first stop Fury. With deft fingers she finds his pulse and is relieved to find he’s wearing a vest. She pulls him to his feet, and they start running.  

“We have to get that Tesseract back.” Fury says, all business like usual. Morgan can’t say she agrees but she keeps her mouth shut. Clint’s with the Tesseract. Two birds, one stone. Good enough for her. Fury’s pulling out his radio. “Agent Hill! Barton is comprised! They’ve taken the Tesseract. Get out.” He doesn’t have to say that twice, with the growing blue cloud of energy growing behind them as they run Morgan’s pretty sure this is one Nick Fury order she’d follow to the grave.

“It’s clear upstairs sir. We need to go.” Coulson’s voice sounds staticky in her earpiece. Morgan can’t tell if it’s broken or just interference by the Tesseract. She’s not given much time to consider it before Nick and her emerge from the base, him half dragging her to a nearby helicopter.

“Get this thing flying!” Fury shouts to the pilot who has, miraculously, not left his post yet. Morgan wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.

“Yes, sir!”

“Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.” The ground gives another violent shake as the helicopter whirs to life. Another violent tremor and they’re up in the air. There’s a sudden lull of absolute silence before the ground heaves and a large plume of fire erupts from the ground. She knows she shouldn’t, Clint’s compromised now, rouge, but she finds herself praying that he made it out alive. She doesn’t have long to pray before they’re flying low over the ground, trailing behind a vehicle that can only be that man and Barton. Fury starts firing at them. The shots would never land but that doesn’t stop Morgan’s heart from going into her throat.

“ _No!_ ” She moves to grab him when she’s tossed to the floor like a rag doll mid-step. Something’s hit the helicopter. Woozy but alive she hesitates one second before following Fury’s lead out of the helicopter. She’s jumped from higher. Tuck and roll, right? The ground it unforgiving on her body and she grunts when she lands on her wounded arm. The helicopter comes to a fiery crash just a head of her, blinding her for a moment.

“Director? Director Fury?” Agent Coulson’s voice.

“The Tesseract is with a hostile force. I have men down.” Morgan starts to push herself up as they talk. “Agent Young, do you copy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I copy.” She says, tapping her earpiece to speak. Trusty little thing, having survived this long.

“Hill?”

“A lot of men still under. I don’t know how many survivors.”

“Sound the call. I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that briefcase”

“Roger that.” Hill sounds as exhausted as Morgan does, they all do. Tonight, has been what she can only describe as an…unmitigated disaster.

“Coulson. Young. Get back to base. This is a level seven. As of right now…we are at war.”

“ _Fuck_.”

\---

**New York, 2011**

Morgan knew they were either in trouble or getting debriefed for a new mission when Fury requested that the full strike force come up to his office. Those were the only reasons he ever called for all three of them at the same time. Neither option was a great option if you asked Morgan though. Full team missions usually meant deep cover in some backwater hotel for a month…and being in trouble was never what Morgan would call fun, especially when Fury was involved. To make matters even worse Fury wasn’t there when they’d gotten there. She’d made herself at home on the couch while Clint and Natasha took up awkward sentinel positions on either side. Too nervous to sit apparently.

He makes them wait ten minutes before striding into the room like he always did. Morgan didn’t like Fury much these days, but she could always admire the way he commanded a room. Didn’t matter how much you liked him or even how well you knew him, he was the kind of person you felt you could look to when you needed a plan. You just better leave your moral compass at home before doing it. He moves to stand behind his desk, three manila folders in one hand and three data pads in the other. At least it didn’t look like they were in trouble anymore. Not that it eased the tension in Morgan’s shoulders any.

“There was an…idea, some years ago about putting together an elite force of fighters. A team of people who could fight the battles we never could.” Everyone’s interest is peaked now. “It was dismissed early on for being, impractical and outlandish. But in recent months is has been given…new life.” Morgan sits up a little straighter. Fury rarely tells them what’s happening behind the scenes like this. Usually his debriefings are short and sweet. “I have personally selected you three to be a part of the program.” Morgan is caught off guard. It’s no secret her and Fury butt heads and that she often drags Barton and Romanov along with her. He hands each of them a file and a data pad. “You’ll find the full files of everyone we’ve selected for this team in there, along with video footage. I want you to study it. Memorize it. And prepare.”

“But, Sir…”

“No.” Fury holds up his hand in the wake of Natasha’s inevitable questions. “No questions. All the answers you need are in there. Welcome to the Avenger’s Initiative you three.”

\---

**Unknown, 2012**

Coulson hands her the phone, it’s a burner. Nothing fancy. Just some flip phone Morgan knows for a fact S.H.I.E.L.D has a storeroom full of. “Use this one. The number is already pre-dialed. Remember, short and sweet.”

Morgan nods and turns away, trying to center herself. She presses her fingers into the tightly wrapped cut on her arm. The dull throb of pain helps her calm down. It’s been just over twenty-four hours since the disaster in the Mojave and Morgan is having a hard time processing it all. And what she does process isn’t much good. Clint’s on the lam. Brainwashed, but on the lam. There’s a _hit order_ out on him. Fuck the real reason for this phone call, she couldn’t’ keep this from Nat if she tried. And who better to help get him back than the other member of the trio, right? “I can say whatever I need to, right?”

“Right.” She presses dial. The phone rings once, twice, a third time before she hears the other end of the line pick up.

“Da?” Ah. Russians. Morgan so loved the Russians.

“Put the Black Widow on the line.” There’s silence for a beat before she hears a muffled exchange through the speakers.

“Вы слушаете внимательно.” Morgan has no idea what he’s saying, Nat’s the linguistics expert on the team. But it doesn’t matter.

“You’re at 114 Solenski Plaza. Third floor. We have an F-22 exactly eight miles out. Put the woman on the phone or I blow up the block before you can make the lobby.” Coulson grins at her. It’s a damn good lie if she says so herself. There’s a long, agonizingly long, beat of silence before she hears Nat’s voice. It doesn’t help the raw edges of her nerves much, but it’s something.

“Nat. We need you to come in.”

“Are you kidding? I’m working. I’m in the middle of an interrogation. This moron is giving me everything.”

“Nat…” Morgan filches at the break in her voice. “Clint’s been compromised.”

“Let me put you on hold.” Nat’s voice is deceptively calm, and Morgan doesn’t have time to say anything else because all she can hear over the phone is the sound of a very one sided struggle. Almost makes her wish she was there. Almost. Another minute passes and then Nat’s voice is back. “Where’s Barton now?”

“We don’t know, Nat.”

“But he’s alive?”

“We think so. They’ll brief you on everything when you get back.” Morgan nods despite the fact Natasha can’t see her. “Before that though they…they want you to talk to the big guy.”

“Morgan. You know Stark can trust me as far as he can throw me.” There’s humor in her voice and it rubs off a little on Morgan, if Nat can be calm so can she. “No. Not him. They’re sending me to Stark. You’ve got the big guy.”

“ _Bozhe moi._ ”


	5. Chapter Four

**New York, 2012**

Tony Stark is an asshole. The epitome of an asshole. The kind of person Morgan goes out of her way to avoid at all costs. And Fury has hand picked her to go and tell him they’re launching the Avenger’s initiative. She doesn’t know if she should be jealous that Nat got Banner or not. At least he sent Coulson with her. He could do all the talking when Tony inevitably pissed her off. He was already well on his way to that though. They’d called him twice now and each time that damnable e-butler thing told them he wasn’t in. Not that Coulson or Morgan believe that. After a third and unsuccessful attempt Coulson groaned and handed the phone to Morgan.

“That man is irascible. Do your thing.”

“Really? You’re really going to let me…” Coulson just stares at her a moment before Morgan eagerly accepts his phone and starts to frantically type across the keyboard. Stark was good…but Morgan was better. In moments the phone is ringing again, and this time there’s no robot voice to interrupt them. “Oh, that felt good.”

“Mr. Stark, we need to talk.” Coulson is calm and collected, like always, when he presses a complicated pattern of buttons on the elevator before they start moving up. Morgan wants to ask, to pry, but now isn’t the time…and Coulson would never share.

“You have reached the life model decoy of Mr. Stark. Please leave a message.”

“This is urgent.”

“Then leave it urgently.” The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open with a soft hiss. Top floor. Private. Agent Coulson button hacked his way up to the personal apartments of Tony Stark, Morgan was impressed. Tony Stark looks amazed as Coulson and her step over the threshold. “S-Security breach!”

“Me. Stark.”

“Phil! Come in. Who is your friend?” They’ve clearly met, there’s no shortness of fondness in her voice. Morgan pretends to be relaxed as she sticks out her hand.

“I’m Agent Young.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Young.” Morgan likes this woman. It’s a wonder she’s with Tony Stark really.

“Phil?” Morgan is getting a deeps sense of satisfaction at watching the great Tony Stark at a loss for words like this. Nat would never believe her.

“Can’t stay.”

“Uhm, his first name is Agent. Like hers.” Morgan shoots him a dirty look and make a point to stay near Pepper as she and Phil keep talking.

“Come on in, we’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

“Which is why they can’t stay.” Tony isn’t even trying to hide the frustration in his voice and his smile is more of a grimace than anything else. This is fun. Phil doesn’t seem to be listening as he roots around in his bag and pulls out an assortment of files and a data pad, handing them to Tony.

“We need you to look this over as soon as possible—”

“I don’t like being handed things.”

“That’s all right, because I love to be handed things.” Pepper says, tactfully stepping in and tacking the folders from Coulson with a warm smile and handing over her flute of champagne to Morgan. “Would you hold this?” Morgan doesn’t expect her to hand them to Tony next and pluck his own flute from his hands. Tony seems equally as shocked, although Morgan’s willing to bet she hides it better.

“Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday.” Morgan rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, over this pedantic conversation already.

“This isn’t a consultation, Stark.” Morgan says, exasperated.

“Is this about the Avengers?” Morgan and Coulson’s eyes snap to Pepper in surprise. “W-Which I know…nothing about.”

“The Avengers initiative was scrapped.” He’s already typing something into the data pad and walking away. At least it’s progress. “And I thought I didn’t even qualify?”

“I didn’t know that either.” Pepper says and Morgan can’t help but smile at her. This one. She likes this one.

“Apparently, I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others?”

“That’s a given.” Morgan says, scoffing loud enough she’s sure Stark can hear her. Stark gives her no indication he heard, not that she expected him to. “Look. This isn’t about personality profiles anymore.

“Whatever.” His total lack of empathy pisses Morgan off. It’s only Coulson’s warning look that keeps her from storming over to him and grabbing him by the collar to shake a little sense into him. He’s not nearly as dangerous as her with his suit off. “Ms. Potts? Got a second?”

“Just a moment.” She half whispers as she walks off towards Tony’s desk. They’re talking too low for Morgan to hear but she gets the gist of it when Tony throws up the profiles of everyone selected for the Avenger’s Initiative. She’s seen it all before she let’s herself watch footage of her and Barton in Egypt. And then Clint and Nat in Russia. Watching it makes her chest hurt and she turns away. They’ll fix this. Asshole or no asshole. Things turn intimate and Morgan and Coulson both turn further around to give them privacy. The moment is over as soon as it began and Pepper is walking back towards them, a spring in her step.

“Any chance you’re driving by LaGuardia?”

“We can drop you.” Phil says, pressing the call button for the elevator again.

“Fantastic. It’ll give us time to get to know each other Ms. Young.” Morgan doesn’t know what to say to that. “Oh! I also want to hear about that cellist, Phil. Has anything happened?”

“There’s a cellist? Coulson, please do, tell us more.” Morgan grins wide as they pile into the elevator. She’s learned more about Coulson in the past five minutes than she has the entire time she’s worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.

“I’m going to see her in Portland actually.” Pepper presses another button and the elevator begins its long descent. “And this conversation will not be repeated at base, right Morgan?”

Morgan sighs but doesn’t bother to fight him on it. “You know I’m going to tell Nat and Clint, right?”

“Do you three have any secrets?”

“Nope.” A few. You didn’t become who they were without gathering a few deep, dark, secrets that you shared with no one. Morgan didn’t have a lot, but there were things only Morgan knew about herself. Things she was still learning about herself.

 

\---

 

**Unknown, 2012**

It had taken them far long to gather the others than Morgan would have liked. In the last 48 hours God knows what could have been happening to Clint and the Tesseract. That man, Loki, could be doing anything with it. And they were sitting here…doing nothing. Getting ready for a damn debriefing. Morgan’s fingers tapped nervously on the tabletop. No one around her seemed to notice her though, too busy in getting this flying behemoth out of the water. It wasn’t her first trip in the heli-carrier but that didn’t make her like the jarring sensation of rising slowly any easier. There was something…deeply unnatural about this kind of thing doing what it did. She was distracted when Nat walked onto the bridge though, eagerly bouncing out of her chair to meet her halfway.

“It’s about time.”

“Morgan.” Nat’s voice is clipped and short and Morgan instantly feels sorry for her impatience. She’s not the only one worried about Clint, she never was. Nat just seems to be handling it a lot better.

“Sorry. I just…” She absently rubs the spot where Clint’s arrow had sliced her, thumb running over the fresh scar tissue. “I’m worried, Nat. I’m so damn worried.”

“I know.” She puts a hand on Morgan’s shoulder and squeezes it. “You should try to get more sleep. It’ll help with the never-ending sense of doom you’re feeling.”

“I can’t sleep.” Morgan admits softly, pulling her eyes up to watch the two men Nat brought with her as they move through the bridge. Rogers is confident, if apprehensive, and Banner is scared, although she can’t fault him for that.

“We’ll get him back. Don’t worry.” Morgan nods, pretending to be surer of herself than she is now. It’s not fair to Nat to be the pillar of support the whole time, right? Nat squeezes her shoulder once more before walking back towards Fury and the new guys. Morgan takes a moment to breathe and center herself. She’s no use to this team if she’s an emotional wreck. It’s not the first time Barton has gone and gotten himself taken out of the game and it’s never affected her like this before. She can’t put her finger on it but this time it feels different, feels personal. Like if they don’t save him, he’ll never be able to save himself. A moment longer and Morgan’s calm again, breathing regulated. She elects to join the group ad Fury fills them in, she squats next to Nat’s computer to watch the face match progress. It’s hard to stare at Clint’s face but she persists.

“We’re sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet. Cell phones, laptops. If it’s connected to a satellite its eyes and ears for us.” Coulson explains, walking up to watch the same screen as Nat and Morgan.

“It’s still not going to find them in time.” Morgan says, turning away from the screen with more relief than she probably should.

“You have to narrow your field. How many spectrometers do you access to?” Banner asks, slowly becoming less like a cornered cat the more he hashes out a plan. Maybe he’s not totally useless after all.

“How many are there?”

“Call every lab you know. Tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for Gamma rays. I’ll rough out a tracking algorithm, basic clusters of recognition. And at least we can rule out a few places. You have somewhere for me to work?”

“Agent Romanov, Agent Young.” Nat stands up and Morgan follows a moment. “Would you show Doctor Banner his laboratory please?”

“You’re going to love it Doc. We’ve got all the toys.” Nat says, not waiting for Banner to catch up with them as she walks. Morgan trails behind them, mostly to make sure Banner doesn’t take a wrong turn. The walk is brief, there’s not exactly a lot of real estate on a flying fortress. Nat lets him in, and Morgan follows him in. Fury told her beforehand it was her job to watch him. Stupid as it felt.

“Call if you need anything Doctor.” Nat says as she closes the door. She turns back to look at Morgan through the glass. **“You good?”**

**“I’ll be fine. Keep me updated.”** And then she’s gone. Morgan makes herself at home on one of the counters, easily hopping up onto it and settling in.

“You know ASL?”

“I do. My partner is mostly deaf, and we can’t always rely on those fancy Stark Industry hearing aids of his.” She’s indifferent on the matter. It’s not her fault everyone outside of her team won’t bother to learn more than a few words. She studies her nails; they’re bitten to the quick. She needs a manicure. “Besides, it makes for a great communication system in hostile environments.”

“Are you saying I’m hostile?”

“What? No. God you look like my high school Biology teach back in the day.” She drops her hand and shoots Banner what she hopes is a nice smile. “I’m just saying being able to talk above the bad guy’s head is a good talent to have.”

“Then what did you say to her?” She can’t tell if she’s forgiven or not, she elects not to care. Banner is already moving around the lab, getting acquainted with it. Morgan doesn’t have half a clue what everything in here is but he seems to be impressed.

“She asked if I was okay.” For emphasis she repeated Nat’s signs slowly. And then her own. “I told her I was fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look exhausted.”

Morgan shrugs. “It’s been a long few days. Building falls on me, partner gets brain jacked, evil god man from space is taking over the world, hard to get good shut eye with all that happening.”

“Interesting.” He’s not even looking at her anymore, he’s so deeply engrossed in whatever he’s working on that she’s not even sure he heard half of what she just said. _Men._ They’re not in there for much longer when Morgan’s phone lights up. It’s Nat.

“Yes?”

“They’ve found Loki. Wheels up in ten.”

“I’m on my way.” She doesn’t bother trying to tell Banner what’s going on as she darts out the door. She’s not even sure he noticed she’d left at all.


	6. Chapter Five

**Germany, 2012**

Morgan gets on the scene first and wastes no time in scouting the surrounding area. Fury made it very clear what her role in today’s events was. And leaving the team to go hunt down Barton was very much not a part of it. Instead she was tasked with finding the trail of bodies left behind. She almost didn’t report the first body when she found it. She could make it look like a bullet wound, it wasn’t the first time she’d had to do that. But her sense of duty won out in the end. “I…I found a body.”

“Cause of death?”

“Barton.” Nat’s voice hitches almost imperceptibility. Morgan doesn’t focus on that though, afraid if she does, she’ll go off the plan.

“Are you sure?”

“Purple arrows, Nat.”

“Damn.” Morgan says nothing back, pausing just long enough to pull the arrow out and wipe it on the man’s clothes. S.H.I.E.L.D. can know what happened here…the general public isn’t going to. That much Morgan can do for him.

“How far out are you and the captain?”

“Less than a minute.” Morgan nods, even though Nat can’t see her. She finds another body and does the same, reporting it in and discreetly pulling the incriminating arrow from him. She’s awkwardly tucking them into the back of her belt when she hears the first screams. It’s a quick sprint to the plaza in front of the museum from the roof tops. By the time she gets there the crowd has ceased screaming and running…they’re kneeling. Morgan’s blood boils and then instantly freezes when she sees Loki lift his scepter to fire at the one, lone, man still standing. She leaps into action, darting to another roof and then leaping from ledge to ledge until she’s close enough to the ground she can roll with it. She pops up just behind Loki, her gun raised to point at his head. Sandwiched between her and Rogers he has no where to go.

“Ya know. The last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everyone else we ended up disagreeing.” Morgan is impressed by the casual way Rogers approaches Loki.

“The Soldier.” Loki smirks, appearing unbothered as he stands and moves to view both at the same time. “And the Lover.” He says the word like it’s an insult. Morgan doesn’t understand. She doesn’t bother to try. “A man out of time and a woman out of her element.”

“I’m not the one who’s out of time.”

“Or out of their element.” Morgan tacks on, trigger finger itching. She can’t kill him, they need to question him, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t sorely tempted. The Quin-Jet slides in behind Rogers and it’s bay doors open, dropping its formidable weapon’s attachment.

“Loki. Drop the weapon and stand down.”

The man grins, clearly enjoying it as he trusts his spear towards the jet, unbothered by the rush of human bodies jostling him as they flee. Nat dodges the blast easily enough and before Loki has a second to gather himself Rogers attacks, throwing his shield as Morgan moves in closer. She gets off one solid punch to the back of his head before he slams her away with his spear. She’s sent sprawling across the plaza. Rogers moves to take her place and they fight, Loki clearly with the upper hand. Morgan launches herself at him when he forces Steve to his knees. It buys him enough time to stand up and wipe blood off his mouth. “Not today.”

The Quin-Jet is moving again, although Morgan doesn’t elect to pay much attention to it. Nat won’t hit her. She’s trusts that implicitly. Lok grabs Morgan by the throat and tosses her like a rag doll to the side. He’s panting, clearly, he underestimated them.

“Agent Romanov.” It’s Tony Stark’s voice in her ear. Morgan is instantly relieved and instantly worried. Tony doesn’t do this team fighting thing very well. “You miss me?” And then the Quin-Jet is blasting one of Tony’s favorite songs as Tony flies into full view, blasting Loki off of Rogers with ease. He aims a multitude of high-powered weapons at him. “Make you move reindeer games.” Morgan approaches Tony’s left side, trying to conceal a limp. “Fashionably late. As usual.” Morgan says, meaning it both as a compliment and an insult at the same time. Tony says nothing, he just waits for Loki’s next decision. A smart one. In an instant Loki’s headdress is gone and his suit has been replaced with something far more akin to Thor’s usual get up. He looks almost…harmless now, but Morgan doesn’t let her guard down. Loki holds up his hands and Tony removes his weapons, Morgan does not. “Good move.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Captain. Agent Young.” He sounds so business like Morgan finds herself hoping that maybe this will work out all right. And it does, well enough. The get Loki bundled into the Quin-Jet with little pomp and circumstance and they’re up in the air without a single hiccup. A small blessing. She takes up residence next to Natasha in the cockpit, watching the dark night clouds through the glass. They’re not up for long when Fury finally contacts them.

“Has he saying anything?”

“Not a word.”

“Just get him here. We’re low on time.” Morgan scowls as he says it and glares over her shoulder at Loki. It takes a great deal of effort to pull herself away. If she keeps at it she’s liable to try and throttle him.

“Don’t worry. If he puts one toe out of line, I’ll let you take first crack at him.”

“Thanks, Nat.” Morgan says, a half smile flickering across her face. The weather changes in an instant then, large bolts of lightning flashing around them. Big enough that Morgan can feel the hair on her arms stand up.

“Where’s this come from?” Nat asks. No one answers as the Quin-Jet gives a serious shake.

“What’s the matter? Scared of a little lightening?” Rogers asks in what Morgan can only assume is a terrible attempt at making fun of Loki.

Surprisingly, he answers.” I am not overly fond of what follows.”

The jet gives another, more solid, jerk and everyone scrambles into action. Nat focuses back on the controls and her knuckles go white on the steering wheel. Morgan stands from her spot to join the other two when Stark presses for the bay door to open. The rush of air nearly takes Morgan’s breath away.

“What are you doing?” It’s all she can do to speak and keep her hair out of her mouth. Tony doesn’t answer her but the large, blonde, guy that lands in the ship is enough of a distraction for her to forget it. “ _You!_ ” Thor gives no answer, easily brushing Tony away with one blast of his hammer and approaching Loki with a dark look on his face. He grabs him by the neck and starts to leave. Morgan lunges at him. “You can’t take him yet!” Thor doesn’t even pause as he swings his hammer and flies out of the jet again. As quick to arrive as he was to leave. Morgan’s chest aches. Without Loki to give them Clint he’s lost to them. “Damnit!”

“And now there’s that guy.” Tony says.

“Another Asgaurdian?”

“Is it friendly?”

“Yes. Asgardian. Friendly—” Tony cuts Morgan off with a wave of his hand.

“Doesn’t matter. If he frees Loki or kills him the Tesseract is lost.” And Clint. It’s all lost. Tony turns to leave the jet, heedless to anyone else’s opinions.

“Stark! We need a plan of attack!”

“I have a plan. Attack.” And then Tony’s gone into the night. Morgan scowls darkly. Egotistical megalomaniac. Rogers is already moving through the shock, grabbing a parachute an getting into it.

“I’d sit this one out, Rogers.” Morgan says, squatting a little to keep from falling over as the Jet is buffeted from either side.

“I don’t’ see how I can.”

“These guys come from legends. They’re pretty much gods. And I can attest that the blonde one hits like a damn truck.”

“There’s only one God ma’am. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.” Morgan gapes, she hadn’t expected that sort of response, equal parts ridiculous and foolhardy. He buckles the last strap and turns to leave, shield in hand. He doesn’t hesitate when he jumps from the jet.

“Fuck, Nat. He’s crazy. They’re all crazy.”

“Men.” Nat’s voice is tight, but Morgan sees the smile on her face regardless. “I’m turning this bird around. Someone is going to have to pick their crazy asses up.”

“Guess that’s our job, huh?”

\---

**Unknown, 2012**

“A mindless beast. Makes play a being just a man. How desperate are you?” He doesn’t even sound bothered. He sounds almost amused. It makes Morgan sick to her stomach. She pushes away from the table and starts to pace, arms crossed across her chest. “You call on such lost creatures to defend you.”

“How desperate am I?” At least Nick sounds equally as un-bothered, albeit tense. It does little to ease Morgan’s nerves. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

“Ohhh. It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract. To have power. Unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share. And then to be reminded what real power is.”

“Well let me know if ‘real power’ wants a magazine or something.” Nick says as he walks out of the room. Roger’s closes the surveillance feed and Morgan relaxes a fraction of an inch.

“He really goes on you, doesn’t he?” Banner asks, clearly trying to cover up how awkward he must feel. Morgan can’t blame him for it.

“I want to kill him.” Morgan says, her voice dangerous quiet.

“We’re not going to kill him. Loki is going to draw this out. So, Thor, what’s his play?”

“He has an army called the Chitauri.” Morgan pauses to stare at Thor, instantly worried. Crazy man with a magic spear they can handle. Crazy man with a magic spear and an army is far more serious than she thought. “They’re not of Asguard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”

“An army. From outer space.” Rogers sounds more skeptical than he should.

“So, he must be trying to build another portal then.” Morgan says, finding her way back to the table next to Nat.

“That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.” Banner says, nodding in agreement with Morgan. It made sense, saying it all out loud like this.

“Selvig?” Thor asks.

“He’s an astrophysicist.”

“He’s a friend.” Morgan had forgotten that Thor and Selvig had gotten to know each other before all this. She knew how he felt, even if he didn’t show much emotion.

Loki has him under some kind of spell…Along with one of ours.” Nat says softly and Morgan nods.

“Clint Barton.” Morgan clarifies, leveling looks at each of them. She wasn’t going to let them hurt him anymore than Thor would probably let them hurt Selvig.

“I want to know why he let us take him.” Steve seems unaffected by Morgan’s stare, moving right on with the general conversation. “He’s not leading an army from here.”

“I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy brain is a bag full of cats.” Nat and Morgan arch their brows, mildly amused by the comparison. “You can smell crazy on him.”

“Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard and he’s my brother.” Thor says, turning to stare heavily at Banner from across the table. Banner squirms.

“He killed 80 people in two days.” Nat deadpans, not the least bit intimidated.

“He’s adopted.” Morgan snorts softly and wanders away from Nat to pace again. Standing still makes her feel like she’s doing nothing. At least worrying a hole in the ground feels better, if marginally.

“I think it’s about the mechanics. Iridium. What do they need the Iridium for.” Banner asks. Everyone shrugs. Up until this moment no one here knows much about the stuff, if they even knew it existed.

“It’s a stabilizing agent.” Ton’s voice echoes from down the hall and everyone turns to look as he and Coulson walk in.

“Finally deign to meet with us, Stark.” Morgan does little to hide the sarcasm. He ignores her, whispering something to Coulson about Portland and love. Morgan ignores it. Tony shoves his hands in his pockets and turns his attention back to the group. “Means the portal won’t collapse on itself again. No hard feelings point break.” He gently taps Thor’s upper arm as he walks by. “You’ve got a mean swing. It also means the portal can stay open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants.” Tony walks up to the center of the bridge like he owns. “Raise the sails, swing the mast.” The chatter from the collected agents dies down in confusion. Loud enough to echo, “That man is playing Galaga. Thought we wouldn’t notice, but we did.” He pauses, covers his eye and turns to look at Hill over his shoulder. “How does Fury even see these?”

“He turns.” She’s as unimpressed as all the other agents are. Morgan is mostly mortified. There’s not enough time in the day for him to be dicking around right now. She marches towards him.

“Stop being a dick, Stark. We have a mission to complete.”

 “Your point?” He turns away from her, approaching one of the elevate screens. Morgan’s blood boils again. It’s only Stark talking about the mission details again that keeps her from launching at him. “The rest of the other materials Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source of high energy density.” He’s walking a loop around the screens. She almost misses it when he pauses to place something on the underside of one of the computers. They make eye contact and he gives her the barest shake of his head. She says nothing. “Something to…kick start the cube.”

“And when did you become an expert in thermo-nuclear astrophysics?” Hill asks.

“Last night.” A beat of stunned silence. “In the packet, Selvig’s notes.” Morgan hadn’t even tried to read those. The extraction Theory papers. Am I the only one who did the reading?”

“You’re probably the only one who understood it.” Hill says, rolling her eyes.

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Morgan asks, impatiently drawing the conversation back to the important things. She can’t handle another Stark tangent.

“He’d have to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coolum barrier.”

“Unless, Slevig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunnel effect.” Morgan’s head hurts and she moves to walk back towards the table once more.

“Well. If he could do that, he could achieve the heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“Finally! Someone who speaks English!” Tony has made is way around the table to stand next to Banner, the only person in the room whose eyes aren’t turning glassy from confusion.

“Is…that what just happened?” Morgan asks, eyes jumping from person to person. Nat just shrugs and Rogers follows suit. She ignores the introductions in favor of walking back down the hallway to meet Fury halfway, he doesn’t speak to her.

“Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube. I was hoping you might join him.” Fury says.

“I’d start with that stick of his. It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.”

“I don’t know about that.” HYDRA has been dead for decades. Eradicated almost entirely. And Morgan’s done the research, HYDRA weapons weren’t anything amazingly special. “But it is powered by the cube. And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into two of his personal flying monkeys.”

“Monkeys? I do not understand.” Thor says, confusion all over his face.

“I do!” Steve is practically bouncing in his seat. It’s almost cute. Almost. “I-I understood that reference.”

Tony rolls his eyes, crosses his arms and speaks again. “Shall we play, Doctor?”

“This way, Mr. Stark.” Banner says motioning down the hallway and starting to walk that way. Morgan doesn’t want to follow but she’s painfully aware of what Fury had told her earlier. She waits a moment long before moving out of the room, pausing long enough at the door to sign to Nat.

**“Keep me updated.”**

**“Just try not to fall asleep from all the science talk.”**

**“Want to trade?”**

**“Not in a million years.”** Nat’s grin is tight but at least she’s grinning. Morgan smiles back in much the same way before darting down the hall and after the two men, already deep in conversation about melting points and potential ways to achieve it. She tries to tune them out to no avail. Tony easily ignores her, it’s Banner that keeps glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

“I thought I told Fury I didn’t need a personal babysitter.”

“Good thing I’m not a babysitter.” Morgan says, pretending not to be bothered by the fact he’s mostly right. “I’m an escort. All non-agents are required to have one. Don’t think you’re special. Rogers has one too.”

“Yeah. Right.” Banner sounds skeptical as he opens the door and they file in. Morgan sets up shop on a chair she pushes to the corner of the room. She wants to stay out of the way. The boys putter around for a moment and then they start sharing details. She mostly tunes them out until she hears Banner shout in pain. She’s up from the chair in seconds.

“What the hell you do that for, Stark? This isn’t a great place from him to turn into the Hulk and you know it.” Morgan asks, angry all over again.

“Are you nuts?” Rogers asks as he walks in.

“Jury’s out.” Tony admits and Morgan can’t even find it in her to laugh, even though she finds it amazingly clever.

“You really have got a lid on it haven’t you? What’s your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?”

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are.”

“Threatening the safety of everyone on the ship isn’t funny.” Steve pauses, thinks about it a moment and then frowns. “No offense Doctor.”

“It’s all right. I wouldn’t have come aboard if I couldn’t handle pointy things.”

“You are tip toeing big man. You need to strut.” Tony is already walking away, but Morgan intentionally places herself between him and Banner anyways. The action isn’t lost on anyone in the room.

“And you need to focus on the problem, Stark.” Morgan says, crossing her arms.

“You think I’m not? Why did Fury call us in? Why now? Why not before? What isn’t he telling us? I can’t do the equation unless I have all the variables.” Morgan realizes what she saw him doing on the bridge and she feels instantly conflicted. He’s right. But it’s also the totally wrong way to do things.

“Do you think Fury is hiding something?” Rogers asks.

“He’s a spy. Captain. He’s _the_ spy. His secrets have secrets.” He pops a handful of blueberries in his mouth. “It’s bugging him too isn’t?” Tony says, motioning to Banner.

“Uhhhh. I just…I just want to finish my work here.” He sounds like a trapped animal; Morgan doesn’t like it.

“Doctor?”

“Bruce sighs heavily and takes off his glasses. “A warm light for all mankind. Loki’s jab at Fury about the cube.”

“We all heard it.” Morgan says, barely keeping her exasperation out of her voice.

“Well. I think that was meant for you.” Bruce points around Morgan and at Stark “Even if Barton didn’t tell Loki about the tower it was still all over the news.”

“The Stark tower? That big, ugly—” Steve stops himself at Tony’s look. “Building in New York?”

“It’s powered by an arc reactor, a self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for…what? A year?”

Tony nods, smug. “It’s just the prototype. “I’m kind of the only name in clean energy right now is what he’s getting at.”

“So why didn’t SHEILD bring him in on the Tesseract project? I mean…what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?” Morgan finds herself agreeing and it’s not…a great place to be. She’s worked for this organization for years. She’s done a lot of good in their name. It’s…hard to hear straight facts about them that paint them in a negative light. They look at her.

“I don’t know the answers. I’m just an agent. I go where they tell me and I do what they want. I didn’t even know this damn cube existed until a few days ago when Loki arrived.” She shrugs, feeling vulnerable. Maybe if she’d known about it she’d have been able to keep Clint from getting hijacked. Maybe.

Tony sighs and starts walking again. “I plan on looking into that once I finish breaking into SHIELD’s mainframe and getting their secure files.”

“I’m sorry. Did you say—”

“That’s not a good idea, Stark.”

“Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours I’ll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide.”

Morgan’s heart stutters. Nat has secrets hidden there. Clint. Herself. “Maybe some secrets should stay hidden, Tony.” It’s the first time she’s used his first name since recruiting him. Tony seems unfazed by that, however.

“Got a few skeletons in your closet, Morgan? You’re looking a little pale.”

“Everyone has secrets.”

“Some too many, don’t you agree?” Morgan doesn’t answer him, turning away to look out the glass leading into the hallways. There’s not a lot of movement this late, but it works well enough for a distraction.

“And you wonder why they didn’t want you around.” Steve says, his voice hard.

“An intelligence organization that fears intelligence are historically…not awesome.”

“I think Loki is trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war. And if we don’t stay focused, he’ll succeed. We have orders. We should follow them.”

“Following has never been my style.”

“And you’re all about style, aren’t you?”

“Of the people in this room. Which on is wearing a.) a spangly outfit and b.) not of use?”

“Steve. Morgan.” Banner says. She turns back to face the room, face guarded. “You can’t tell me none of this smells a little funky?”

“Just find the cube.” And Steve is out the door, his own face equally as unreadable. He’s got a dangerous set to his shoulders though. Morgan follows him outside the lab, the door hissing shut behind her. She doesn’t follow him as he leaves, electing to lean against the wall and rub her forehead. It all makes too much sense. Fury has always been a secretive kind of guy, and by extension, so has SHIELD. Morgan’s always accepted that as fact but now...now with everything balancing on a razor’s edge she’s not sure what to think anymore. She sags a little further against the wall. She’s never wanted Clint and Natasha with her as much as she does right now. They’d know what to do…and if they didn’t, well, at least they’d get through it together.


	7. Chapter Six*

He’s pacing in his cell, un-bothered by the fact he’s in one. There’s no rush to his steps, no fast turn on his heels to mark any agitation whatsoever. It’s almost disconcerting. Almost. It’s not enough to rattle Natasha though. She’s taking her time approaching the large glass-like room. Side stepping every creaky brace and squeaky attachment. And he patience is rewarded when she stops just on the edge of the walk way without him turning around to greet her. It doesn’t take him long to notice her though, his barely audible chuckle all she gets before he turns around to speak with her. “There’s not many people who can sneak up on me.”

“But you figured I’d come.” She’s careful to keep her voice emotionless and flat. She’s a master spy for a reason. She gives nothing away that she doesn’t want to. Not even to strange men in capes claiming to be a god.

“After.” Loki admits. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct. You would appear as a friend. As a balm. You or the other one at least.” He walks closer to the glass, equally as hard to read. “And I would…cooperate.”

“I want to know what you’ve one to Agent Barton.”

“I’d say I’ve expanded his mind.”

“And once you’ve one.” She walks even closer to the cell now. If the thick glass weren’t between them, they’d almost be having a pleasant conversation. “Once you’re king of the mountain. What happens to his mind?”

“Oh.” It’s the first time his voice sounds anything but calm, he’s amused. “Is this love Agent Romanov?”

 "Love is for children. I owe him a debt.”

He cocks his head and smiles but there’s no humor in it. “Oh. Good. It’d be such a shame to have to tell you he doesn’t feel the same…to you at least.” Natasha doesn’t even blink. She knows. She’s known for a long time now. And it’s never bothered her. She finds it amusing that Loki seems to think it has. He pauses for a second before backing away and holding his arms out. “Tell me.”

“Before I worked for SHIELD…I, uh…” Natasha pretends to hesitate, pretends to reconsider telling him anything. She pulls a nearby chair up and sits. “Well. I made a name for myself. I have a very specific skill set. I didn’t care what I used it for. Or on. I got on SHIELD’s radar in a bad way. Agent Barton was sent to kill me. He made a different call.”

“And what will you do if I vow to spar him?”

“Not let you out.” Nat says, a half smile playing on her face. It seems to be the trigger for Loki though, a huge grin splitting his face almost grotesque as he leans towards her.

“I know. But I like this. Your world is in the balance and you bargain for one man.”

“Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that. I’m Russian. Or, I was.”

“And what are you now?”

“It’s really not that complicated.” Natasha covers up her pretend vulnerability now, standing up from the chair, taking a more powerful position again. “I got red in my ledger. I’d like to wipe it out.”

“Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?” Loki pauses. “Drakov’s daughter?” The surprise that flashes across her face is real this time. There’s no way he should know that name. None. She hides it, with a great force of will. Although Loki can still see it dancing in her eyes. “Sao Paulo? The hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” Loki stands and walks menacingly towards her now. “Your ledger is dripping. It’s gushing red. And you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the bases sentimentality. This is a child’s prayer _. Pathetic_.” Loki’s face is twisted, ugly, almost frightening if Natasha wasn’t separated by a thick glass wall. “You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code. Something that makes up for the horrors but they’re a part of you. And they will never go away.” His fist against the glass is unexpected but Natasha has to fake jumping at it anyways. Appear to be meek. “I won’t touch Barton. Not until I make him kill her. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows she fears and then he’ll wake just long enough to see his good work and when he screams…I split his skull and make him do it all to you. And then?” Loki doesn’t wait. “I’ll kill him.” Nat gasps, her fear and anguish is fake but she turns her back to him so he can’t see how rattled hearing that has actually made her. It’s easy to play it off as a show of submission if her back is turned. She even manages a few, half chocked sobs. “This is my bargain you mewling quim.”

“You’re a monster.”

Loki laughs and Nat knows she has him right where she wants him. “Oh no. You brought the monster.”

Nat drops the act in seconds, turning back around, no sign of how this conversation has affected her at all. The look of confusion on Loki’s face makes it all worth it. “So. Banner. That’s your play?”

 “What?”

Natasha waits for nothing, tapping her earpiece, “Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab, I’m on my way.” 

\---

“Send Thor as well.” And then Nat’s voice is gone, Morgan instantly jumps into gear. There’s no time left to take pity on herself. Especially not when Loki means to unleash someone as powerful and dangerous as the Hulk onboard a flying fortress. God only knows how many feet in the air they are right now. No one would survive. And there would be casualties in the thousands below them if they landed on them. She couldn’t allow that. The doors slide open with a gentle hiss and she walks back into the lab, covering up her fear with a well-practiced ease. Letting the volatile man in on the issue would only make it worse. Banner and Stark look up from their work only just long enough to register that it was her entering the room. She warrants no questions. She hovers for a moment by the door until it slides open again and Fury walks in, a purpose to his steps. Never a good sign.

“What are you doing, Mr. Stark?”

“Uh. Kinda been wondering the same thing about you.”

“You’re supposed to be locating the Tesseract.” Morgan stands behind Fury’s shoulder but the flickering images on a nearby screen grab her attention. Weapons. HYDRA. Phase two. She doesn’t argue with herself about stepping away to go look at it, flicking through the files with a deepening sense of dread. She’d known about phase two, had an idea, but it had never been something like this.

“We are.” Banner says, surprisingly calm as he emerges from behind the screen Morgan is at. “The signature has been locked and we’re scanning for it now. If we get a hit, we’ll have a location within half a mile.” He points to a screen and Fury turns to look at it.

“And you get your cube back, no muss, no fuss…”

“What exactly is Phase Two?” Morgan asks, turning away from the screen to look directly at Fury.

“Phase two is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons.” Steve drops a large gun onto a table with a loud bang, startling no one, but his point is made regardless. Morgan can’t fault him for being angry, she is. They all should be. “Sorry. The computer was moving a little slow for me.”

“Rogers. We gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we are—”

“I’m sorry Nick.” Tony moves from behind the table to the center of the room. Morgan watches him warily, not sure which side of this argument she landed on. She owed a lot to SHIELD. But this much? She didn’t know anymore. “What? Were you lying?” He spins a screen around to show the room what Morgan had been looking at earlier. There’s no denying it’s a weapons schematic.

“I was wrong director.” Steve says, not even turning to look at Thor and Nat as they enter. Morgan does and she wastes little time deciding who she likes more in the room. Nat meets her halfway across the room. “But the world hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Did you know about this?” Banner asks, pointing to them both. Morgan shakes her head…it’s Nat’s lack of an answer that makes her chest hurt.

“Do you want to think about removing yourself from this environment doc?” Her lack of a response is all Morgan needs to know…and it hurts. Banner laughs, he’s nervous.

“I was in Calcutta. I was pretty well removed.”

“Loki is manipulating you.”

“And you’re doing what exactly?” Morgan is impressed Banner isn’t as thick as the other scientists SHIELD employs. They’re friendly, smart, but easily manipulated with the right words and tone of voice.

“You didn’t come here because I batted my eyelashes at you.” Natasha says, moving away from Morgan to stand closer to Banner now. It’s a classic move, and one Morgan is sure won’t work on Banner.

“Sorry. But I’m not leaving because you suddenly got a little twitchy.” He moves across the room, away from Nat, who doesn’t follow.  He pulls the screen to him and gestures to one of the missile designs. “I’d like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

Fury hesitates just a second, barely long enough for anyone to notice. “Because of him.” He swings his arm out in a wide gesture to point at Thor who looks more confused than offended at the accusation. Morgan gets it though. The greatest threat Earth had ever faced had only ever come from Earth…until he and his damn hammer landed in the middle of the desert.

“Me?”

“Last year Earth had a visitor from another planet.” Morgan says softly, locking her eyes onto Fury’s face. She’s not saying this to defend him. Just to clarify.

“And then had a grudge match that leveled a small town.” He’s not wrong and Thor looks appropriately abashed at the clarification. “We learned that not only that we’re not alone, but that we are hopelessly…no, hilariously, out gunned.”

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet.”

“But you’re not the only people out there, are you?” Fury turns to look at Thor, finally looking away from Morgan. “And? You’re not the only threat. The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched. Who can’t be controlled.”

“Like you controlled the cube?” Steve says.

“Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it. And his allies. It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war.”

“A higher form?” Morgan asks, cocking her head in confusion.

“You forced our hand.” Fury says, still as unflappable as always. “We had to come up with—”

“A nuclear deterrent Cause that always calms everything right down.” Morgan agrees with Tony this time. Being able to blast away one’s enemies is a marker of all great powers; an it’s never been a good one.

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?”

“I’m sure if he still made weapons, he’d be neck deep in it.” Steve says.

“Hold on. How is this now about me?”

“I’m sorry. Isn’t everything?”

“I thought humans were more evolved than this.” Thor says, joining the others in slowly advancing on Fury. Morgan sees it. Nat sees it…but neither of them move to stop it, they simply advance themselves forming a tighter circle. Like they’re being…compelled to do it.

“Excuse me. But we didn’t come you your planet and blow stuff up.” And then everything devolves around them. A thousand different arguments about a thousand different things. No one is silent…and no one is safe.

“Captain America is on a threat list?” Banner asks.

“We all are.” Morgan answers, rounding on him for the first time. It’s not something she’s proud of, being on that list, but she’s there. They all are. And for good reason.

“You speak of control yet you court chaos.” Thor’s voice is rising, ringing out over the chaos of the room, yet it’s Banner’s soft reply that draws everyone’s attention.

“That’s his MO isn’t it? I mean…what are we? A team? No, no, no. We’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re…We’re a time bomb.”

“You need to step away.” Fury turns his back to them all, focusing in on Banner, not that Morgan can blame him for it.

“Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?” Tony asks, flippantly putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s glare could curdle dairy as he smacks Tony’s arm away.

“You know damn well why! Now back off.”

“Oh. I’m starting to want you to make me.”

“Yeah. Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off and what are you?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

“You forgot asshole.” Morgan says, crossing her arms and glaring at him. The boys are too caught up in arguing to notice.

“I know men with none of that worth ten of you. I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself.” Steve isn’t wrong, but he isn’t right either. “You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play. To lay down on the wire and to let the other guy crawl over you?”

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

Steve scoffs. “Always a way out. You know you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you? You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.” Tony takes a menacing step forward.

“Put on the suit. Let’s go a few rounds.”

“You people are so petty. And tiny.” Thor says, laughing darkly. It’s the first time Morgan’s ever felt like he could potentially be dangerous in this situation. It’s enough to get her moving again, break her out of the heavy sludge of anger she’d fallen into.

“Yeah. This is a team.” She stalks over to Rogers and Stark and shoves both away from each other. “ _Enough._ ” They glare at her and barely move but say nothing.

“Agent Romanov, Young. Would you escort Doctor Banner back to his—”

“Where? You’re renting my room.”

“The cell was just—”

“In case you needed to kill me. But you can’t. I know. I _tried_.” The silence that descends is heavy and awkward. It’s not an admission anyone wants to hear. “I got low. I didn’t see an end. So, I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out. So, I moved on. I focused on _helping_ other people. I was _good_. Until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk. You want to know my secret? You want to know how I stay calm?” Morgan, like the rest of the room, is enraptured. At least, until she notices Bruce reaching for the spear behind him. It’s a trained and ingrained response to reach for her side arm, just as she sees Fury and Nat doing themselves. The grip is cool in her hand, but she doesn’t pull it out.

“Doctor Banner.” Steve’s voice is gentle, placating. He’s noticed the danger too. “Put down the scepter. Bruce stops and looks down, he’s breathing hard. Then the clarity hits him and in seconds the dark look is gone and he’s putting Loki’s scepter on the table like it burned him. The room is thick with silence interrupted by a loud buzzing noise that causes everyone to turn and look at it.

“We got it.” Morgan says, breaking the silence.

“Sorry kids. You don’t’ get to see my party trick after all.” Bruce says, walking quickly towards another screen across the way.

“You’ve located the Tesseract?” Thor asks.

“I can get there faster—” Tony says, moving with haste to exit the room.

“The Tesseract belongs on Asgaurd. No human is a match for it.”

“You’re not going alone.” Steve says, grabbing Tony by the arm as he walks by. Tony looks at his hand disdainfully.

“You going to stop me?” He slaps Steve’s hand away. They start arguing but Morgan doesn’t care. This is the first solid lead she’s had in finding Clint in ages. She’s standing behind Bruce trying to make sense of the map and failing. There’s numbers and faint landmarks, it’s not an exact enough picture to help her. She feels her frustration levels rising. It’s Nat’s hand on her shoulder that keeps her from losing her head over it.

“Oh my God.” Bruce whispers, taking his glasses off, face turning white.

“What? Oh my God what?” He doesn’t get the chance to respond to her before a loud series of explosions echo through the halls and the ship heaves.

The next explosion under their feet catches them all off guard.


	8. Chapter Seven*

Morgan’s first time in an explosion hadn’t gone well. She’d been deafened and half blind for the escape portion of her plan and it had damn near cost her life. If Fury hadn’t sent Clint to come save her, she’d have probably never have gotten away mostly unscathed. Not that, in the early days at least, she’d have ever admitted to that fact. This explosion is better, although she knows she’ll be feeling the landing for days to come. She lands hard on her left shoulder and it takes her a moment to get her bearings through the ringing in her ears. She can hear Fury and Hill talking through the comms unit, but she doesn’t pick up any details until Hill says something about not staying in the air. That’s all the motivation she needs to roll over and assess things.

“Young? Romanov”

“I’m good. I’m good.” Morgan says forcing her legs under her and sinking into a low squat to survey the area. Banner is, thankfully, still Banner and Natasha, she’s moving but trapped. Morgan skirts Banner to get to her, he’s struggling to keep it together now but Morgan knows there’s nothing she can do for him aside from getting her and Nat as far away from him as possible.

“We’re okay.” Morgan drops next to her, hand on her shoulder and shakes her head. Nat looks over at Banner and she can feel her shoulders tense up. “We’re okay, right?”

“We are so not okay.” Morgan says softly, moving to tug at the metal on top of Nat’s legs. It doesn’t budge.

“Doctor? Bruce. You’ve got to fight it.” Nat’s voice is calm but Morgan has known her long enough to hear the quiver of uncertainty in her voice. “This is just what Loki wants. We’re going to be okay. Listen to me.” Nat isn’t hiding her fear anymore, it’s clear from the way Banner is groaning this is a battle he can never win. Morgan hears approaching footsteps and stops trying to pull up the metal, silently telling the two men to leave. It’s safer. “We’re gonna be okay, all right? I swear, on my life, I will get you out of this and you will walk away.” Morgan starts attacking the debris with a vengeance when Banner’s convulsions get more violent. Nat can talk to him all she wants but it’s a lost cause. “And never, ever—”

“Get away from me!” Banner’s voice is not his own anymore, it’s deep and dark, and it echoes through the room loudly. Morgan attacks the debris with renewed vigor. Her only thought getting Nat and her the hell out of here. And then he’s gone. He tumbles off the side of the walkway to the floor below and let’s out a bellow loud enough to shake the room and Morgan feels the fear lance through her veins, cold as ice. The debris moves and Nat pulls her leg out with a cry and rolls over to spring to her feet. Banner seems disoriented as he stands, staggering and leaning heavily on things, Morgan ignores him in favor of grabbing Nat’s hand and tugging her away from him. They can’t take on the Hulk. No one can. Nat resists for a fraction of a second and that’s all it takes for the Hulk to find them and charge. They make a mad dash for the stairs. It’s a near thing but both manage to get onto the walkway as he rips the stairs away. He glares at them, pure hatred in his eyes, and they launch themselves into running again. The Hulk is clever though and starts to punch through the floor, grasping for them. His fingers are easy enough to dodge of the ground quaking beneath them makes it difficult to keep their balance. Nat’s always been the faster runner and Morgan can see herself falling behind, but as Nat darts into the dark recesses of the exposed duct work and Morgan follows it feels almost like they’ve lost him. It’s eerily silent as the creep quietly through the shadows, eyes darting around every corner. And just as Morgan is about to say they’ve lost him he appears, screaming loud enough to make Morgan’s ears ring. They dart back onto the open walkway and run as fast as they can go. But their fastest is nothing compared to the speed of the Hulk. With nothing left to lose Morgan unholstered her gun and stops, shooting a bullet into an overhead pipe, releasing its gas. It’s enough to startle the Hulk to a stop, buying them time. But it’s not nearly enough. He’s angry now and he cares nothing for the things in his way, barreling through walls and doorways as if they’re paper. There’s no escape. The Hulk gives another bellow and smacks Morgan to the side of the hallway. She lands with a thump and a grunt, holding her ribs. He’d just grazed her, thankfully, but it still hurt. She tries to move, and a lancing pain knocks her down again, breathless. Nat’s stopped and turned around now, coming back for her. Morgan can’t get enough air to tell her to leave her. Inches away from being within the Hulk’s grasp there’s another explosion that rockets the Hulk down the walkway and through the closed hanger door. Morgan doesn’t see who, but the red cape is telling enough. She tries to move again, and Nat’s hands are under her arms, lifting her up onto her feet.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah I think I’m…I’ll be fine for now.” She pulls away from Nat, gasping. “We have to move.”

“Good plan.” Nat nods and takes off back the way they came. Morgan follows suit. They don’t make it far before Morgan has to stop, gasping for air. Nat tugs them behind a stack of crates and Morgan gratefully sinks to the floor. A broken rib or two for sure. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“I’ll be okay.” Morgan says, nodding, trying to sound convincing. “I just…can’t run anymore. Too hard to breathe.”

Nat nods and surprisingly, sinks down to sit next to her, she’s close enough that Morgan can feel her shivering. She can’t blame her. The Hulk is so much more terrifying in person. There’s enough inane babble over the comms that Morgan focuses in on that, trying to distract herself. And then Fury’s voice cuts in. “It’s Barton. He took out our systems. He’s headed for the detention levels.” Nat gives a more violent shiver; Morgan grabs her hand. “Does anybody copy?” Morgan squeezes Nat’s hand and after a beat of hesitation she squeezes back.

“This is Agent Young. I’m with Agent Romanov.” A beat. “We copy.” And then Nat is standing up with a purpose, pulling Morgan up with her. Her chest aches but Morgan ignores it. There’s something more important. If they don’t get to Clint first…She refuses to think of it. Nat starts running and Morgan follows, after a moment it’s easy enough to ignore the pain. The hallways splits and it goes unspoken as the split ways. She sees him duck under a pipe moments later and she slips deeper into the shadows. He doesn’t know she’s here. She drops in on him but his reflexes are still on point and he uses his bow to stop her hands. She twists, he turns. He lands a punch to her shoulder. Clint may have taught her how to fight but that didn’t make fighting him any easier. It probably made it harder. She manages to kick him squarely in the chest, forcing him to stagger backwards. She uses this distraction to get between the pipes. He can’t fire arrows at her in small spaces. There’s another set of feet approaching, and Morgan watches Nat launch herself at Clint. They’re just as well matched. Morgan leaps into the fray again as Clint headbutts Nat and she grabs his bow, using the string to slingshot towards him. He grins as he dodges but he’s distracted enough that Morgan manages to pull his bow away from him, stumbling backwards. He cocks his head and smiles again, pulling one of his knives out and launching himself at her. Morgan ducks and he flies over her, the tips of his boots scraping across her back. Nat catches him and they fight in earnest. It’s clear who has the upper hand as Nat weaves in and out of Clint’s attacks. But Clint easily fends them both off for a time. He lands a kick to Morgan’s ribs that knocks her over with a pained hiss and as Nat moves in to grab him he turns the tables on her, twisting her into a headlock, his blade poised just above her throat. Morgan sees stars as she forces herself up off the floor to leap onto Cint’s back, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him away from Nat. He drops her with a cry and easily shakes Morgan off of him, but Nat has already leveled a kick at him that sends him sprawling across the walkway, bashing his head against the lower rung of the handrail. He grunts and sags to the ground, struggling to get his hands under him and back up. Morgan approaches him as he gets to his knees. His face is gaunt and his skin pale. He looks like death. She doesn’t want to hit him. She puts her hand on his head, threading her fingers through his hair.

She braces herself.

“Morgan?” Her heart clenches painfully as she uses her hand to smash his head back into the handrail with a sickening thwang. He sags again and this time there’s no hint of him getting up again. Morgan sinks to her knees next to him, fingers expertly finding a pulse. She pulls his head into her lap with grunt and Nat squats next to her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll feel it later though.”

“He’ll probably feel it more.” Nat shoots her a shaky smile and Morgan doesn’t try to hide her answering one. At least he’s safe. Nat taps her ear. “Barton has been neutralized.”

“Agent Coulson is own.” Nick’s voice is somber, Morgan can’t think of a time when she’s ever heard it like this. She can’t blame him. Her heart drops deeper into her stomach than before. Phil was a good man.

“A Medical team is on the way.”

“They’re here.” He pauses. “They called it.” Fury’s voice is softer now and Morgan’s heart breaks from the news. Of all the people on this flying behemoth…he would be the last one she’d have wanted to lose. Natasha grabs her hand and Morgan finds some solace in that.

\---

They strap him down to the hospital bed, the thick straps pulled as tight as the doctors can get them without cutting off the blood flow. It feels a little like betrayal, but Morgan knows it’s for the best. They don’t know who he’ll be when he wakes up, if he’ll be Loki’s pawn or Clint Barton again. They can’t risk him attacking them. Especially not now that they’ve forced Morgan to take painkillers. Fighting Clint sober was hard enough, with her reflexes slowed she’d lose in a heartbeat.

Nat’s taken up residence by the door, arms crossed and a pensive look on her face. She’s thinking about something, probably Coulson. Her chest contracts painfully She misses him. Morgan’s seated on the bed next to Clint, her fingers tangled together in knots. She wants to touch him, but she won’t, not yet. The silence in the room is oppressive and it grates at Morgan’s nerves. She can’t take it. “I think I hit him too hard.”

“He’s taken worse. Remember that time in Berlin? He had the shit beat out of him outside that bar.”

“…True. You were so mad when he limped his sorry ass back to the motel.”

“Of course, I was! Bastard should’ve called us in for back up.”

“And to think. It was all because he didn’t get out of his way.” Morgan rolls her eyes. “We kept telling him not wearing his aids was going to get him into trouble.”

“And even after all of that he still doesn’t wear them half the time.” Nat smiles and even though it’s tight around the edges Morgan can tell she’s at least a little bit amused. She smiles back at her and then looks back at Clint, his brows are furrowed, and Morgan instinctively grabs his hand. Her earlier hesitation forgotten.

“You’re okay, Clint. You’re okay.”

“Careful, Morgan. We don’t know what he’ll do when he wakes up.”

“I know—I just—” Clint jerks up with a gasp, straining against the bonds for a moment before sagging back into the bed, gasping and grunting, face twisted in pain. Morgan doesn’t let his hand go, even when he squeezes it painfully tight. “Clint. You’re gonna be okay.” She keeps her voice soft, just barely loud enough for Nat to hear. He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut so tight his face is a mess of wrinkles.

“You know that?” He laughs. “Is that what you know?” He releases her hand and Morgan pulls it away from him. Nat watches with wary eyes as she crosses the room and starts to pour him a drink. “I’ve got a window.” He sounds breathless. “I’ve got to flush him out.”

“You’ve gotta level out. It’s gonna take time.” Nat says, placing the pitcher back on the table and turning to look at him.

“No. You don’t understand.” He’s panting but the strained sound of his voice is getting better. He rolls his head over to look at Nat. “Have you ever had someone pick your brain out and play? Pull you out? And stick something else back in?” Morgan outs her hand on his arm and he moves to look at her next, his eyes are back to normal but they’re distant and dark. She squeezes. “You know what it’s like to be unmade?” Morgan shakes her head.

“You know that I do.” Nat’s voice is steady, and Morgan looks at her, she seems unbothered, almost.

Clint pauses for a moment, letting his breathing even out, before speaking again. “Why am I back? How’d you get him out?”

“Cognitive re-calibration.” Nat leaves the drink on the table as she walks to stand at the foot of the bed. Morgan’s lips turn up into a half smirk.

“We hit you in the head really hard.”

“Thanks.” Clint’s voice is raw with emotion and Morgan squeezes his arm again before pulling her hand off and moving to fiddle with the buckles of his straps. “Morgan.” She pauses and looks up at him, he’s staring at her more intently than he ever has before. It makes every muscle in her chest clench. “How many…How many agents did I—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself, Clint. That was…That was Loki. This was…monsters and space magic and…” She pulls the first strap loose and leaves her hand on his wrist. “That wasn’t you.”

“Loki. He get away?”

“Yeah.” Nat answers, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t supposed you know where?”

“Didn’t need to know.” Morgan pulls the second strap free and moves off the bed so Clint can get up. Nat’s already walking towards the door. Morgan waits at the foot of the bed, watching him. “He’s going to make his play soon though. Today.”

“We’ve gotta stop him.” Morgan says, eyes darting between Nat and Clint.

“Yeah. And whose we?”

“I don’t know. Whoever’s left.”

“Us.” Morgan says softly but her tone is firm. “If it’s just us left on this thing than it’s just us.” There’s a long beat of silence where nobody says anything. Clint takes a long drink from the glass. “We’ve…Pulled bigger things off before.”

Clint chuckles. “If I put an arrow through Loki’s eye socket, I’d sleep better I suppose.” He nods, as if trying to convince himself. Morgan shoots him a smile.

“Now you sound like you.” Nat says, her own smile on her face. Morgan can’t tell if she’d been angling for that response the whole time or if it was a happy accident. She doesn’t linger on it.

“But you two don’t.” What little humor Clint had was gone in an instant. “You’re spies. Not soldiers. Now you want to wade into a war. Why?” Clint pauses a moment. “What did Loki do to you?” He looks from Natasha to Morgan, eyes still dark but at least his own. Nat manages to answer first, Morgan still grappling for an answer.

“He didn’t I just—”

"Natasha.” Morgan barely hears him. The silence stretches on for an agonizingly long time.

“I’ve been compromised.” Morgan doesn’t understand. “I’ve got red in my ledger. I‘d like to wipe it out.” She nods and Morgan understands instantly. There’s more silence between them before Nat is moving towards the door again, she pauses only long enough to slide it open. “We should go. Fury will want to get an update.” Nat’s voice is uncharacteristically laden with emotion and Morgan takes a step to follow her as the door slides closed behind her and she walks away. It’s Clint’s voice that pulls her to a stop.

“Morgan?” She hasn’t thought of a good enough answer. Especially not one on par with Nat’s. Hers is…valiant and heroic…Morgan’s only thought is selfish and petty. The silence descends upon the room again and all Morgan can hear is the soft breathing on Clint on the bed. Clint moves first, standing up and walking the short distance to her side. He takes her hand. It’s an oddly intimate thing for him to do, it’s Morgan that always goes for the hands. Clint has always been a shoulder kind of person. She finds she doesn’t mind.

“It’s not a good reason, Clint.” He says nothing. She pulls her hand from his and balls her hands into fists at her side. She can’t tell him the real reason. “We have to stop him Clint. At least we _must_ try. If…If I might spend the rest of my life a slave to this—this thing…I want to do it knowing I tried to save them. I really tried.”

Clint says nothing for a moment and then he walks towards the door, she doesn’t think he believes her…even though it’s mostly true. She just left the bit out about wanting revenge was all. He slides the door open. “Then we’d better get moving.”


	9. Chapter Eight*

**New York, 2012**

Clint doesn’t linger in the room when he leaves, and Morgan is grateful for that.  She watches him go, part of her already missing him and part of her recoiling at the very thought. She’s a mess of emotions. A mess of half-finished thoughts. Morgan retreats from the door and sits heavily on the bed, head between her hands. Morgan has never been an idiot; she’s known what these strange feelings have meant for months…years really. But she’s _always_ been able to ignore them. It’s easier to not get involved. Easier to pretend nothing between them has altered, shifted. Easier to pretend when she looks at him her heart doesn’t start the tango in her chest. But then the last few days happened and whatever was left of her resolve had died. She hadn’t told Clint the real reason behind why she’d wanted to wade into a war. Hadn’t been able to find the words to aptly describe she was doing it partially out of pure revenge. She wanted to save the world…but she wanted to make Loki suffer for what he’d done too.

**Dubai, 2011**

“I hate wearing dresses.” Morgan says darkly, fidgeting with the fabric around her waist for the hundredth time that evening. They haven’t even made it to the damn elevator yet. It’s not that the dress didn’t fit her well, it fits her beautifully, it’s just that she _hates wearing_ dresses. “Remind me again why Nat couldn’t do this part again?”

“Because she’s in Peru on…business.” Clint pulls her hands away from her body and links his arm with hers. He looks equally as uncomfortable in his suit but he’s doing a better job of hiding it. She nods and rolls her shoulders back, trying to forget how naked she feels, how little her dress has left to the imaginations of those who look at her tonight. “You look beautiful though.” Clint says, his voice thick with emotion. She can’t tell what it is, she doesn’t know if she wants to put a name to the dark look in his eyes. She elects to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand instead. She lets him lead her out the door and down the hallway, using what little time she has left to collect herself again. The trip is too short but as Clint’s finger jabs into the elevator call button Morgan has already slipped into her character.

Beautiful and exceedingly rich, Eva. Rising drug lord looking to dabble in black market weapons in her free time. Honored guest of Trevor McMillion. Black Market king pin. Number three on the FBI’s most wanted list. Number one on SHIELD’s. Eva and her husband had been intercepted on American soil and Clint and Morgan had been sent in their stead. A mole in an operation that SHIELD has been looking to put an end to for years now.

Morgan pulls Clint closer to her side as the elevator doors ping open on the ground floor. She turns on her most electric smile and brushes into the fray like she’s always belonged there. Clint follows her lead, a smile of his own on his face. People move out of their way as Morgan and Clint work their way into the ball room. It’s packed, full of beautifully dressed people…beautifully dressed and _dangerous_ people. Looking at them makes Morgan’s skin crawl. They weave in and out for a while, pleasantries to everyone but never lingering for a conversation. The guest of honor is easy enough to spot, surrounded by beautiful women and tailed by a man who could double as a gorilla. She turns to move towards him, eager to seal the deal. Clint pulls her away, towards the dance floor, spinning her around so they can dance. It’s nothing more than muscle memory when her hands rise and place themselves on his shoulders.

“What on Earth are you doing?” Clint starts spinning them together, flowing gently to the beat. It’s easy enough to follow along with him. He just smiles at her, but it’s not lost on Morgan that his eyes follow the progress of their mark. “This seems ridiculous, no?” She pitches her voice low.

“Don’t want to seem too forward is all. We’re new and all at this but,” He twirls her away and then snaps her back. “It’ll look better if he approaches us you know.”

“Oh? Been to many arms deals before?”

“One or two.” Clint’s grin is amusing, and Morgan feels herself smiling in return. They dance for a moment longer before a hand on Clint’s shoulder pulls them to a gentle stop.

“May I have this dance?” She wasn’t expecting the posh British accent from Trevor. Clint laughs and easily removes himself from Morgan’s arms and lets Trevor take his place. “It’s only fair to share the loveliest woman at the party, right?” Morgan blushes. “I promise not to keep her for too long.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Mr. McMillion.” Clint says, totally relaxed. Morgan keeps her eyes on him just long enough for him to nod and then she focuses in on Trevor with her biggest smile.

“How are you liking the party, dear?” He’s set a quick pace, Morgan doesn’t struggle to keep up, but she knows if she’s not careful she’ll trip up.

“It’s beautiful.” She meant that. “You should come to America. Give those old biddies a taste of what a real party is.” He grins at her as he moves them across the dance floor.

“Don’t tell me you drank so much you’ve forgotten the little soiree I threw in Seattle last year!”

“Seattle? Oh. Goodness. I barely remember that night to be honest.” Morgan says, not missing a beat. She can still talk her way out of this. His hand drops lower, it takes a great force of will not to push him away from her. Instead, she smiles. “I must admit I’d gotten a small bit carried away with my champagne that evening.”

“Oh?” He pulls her closer now, she must focus on dancing between his legs. The grip on her ass grows firm. “Does that mean you’ve forgotten our little…adventure?”

Morgan blushes again, ducking her head down to shoot a glance at Clint. Something isn’t right about any of this, she can feel it in her gut. His hand starts to wander. It’s not long before his fingers are at the slit in her dress. She can’t find Clint in the crowd. Trevor’s spun them around enough she’d long ago lost sight of him. “Dear. I thought we’d agreed to never speak of it again?”

“Mmm.” His grin is wolfish. The song ends and they come to a stop, he uses his free hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. “It’s such a pity that Mrs. Eva is a bottle brunette rather than a natural one.” Morgan refuses to let the blood drain from her face. She won’t give him that satisfaction. His hand slips under her dress. “Now. How about you come with me and we can…discuss our options. In private of course. Leave you counterpart behind.”

“He won’t be pleased with that.” Her voice is cool and level.

“Are they ever?” He gives a particularly hard squeeze and Morgan jerks. “Now. Come quietly.” Morgan simply nods and turns to head towards the front doors. Trevor removes his hand to link his arm through hers. “ _Convince him._ ”

Morgan leans into him and smiles, giggling a tad bit loudly. It’s easy enough to play the simpering woman. Not that anyone aside from Clint would bat an eye at them. She slips her free hand behind her back, switching between their universal signs for trouble and wait. She can only hope he sees it. The doors to the ballroom swing shut with a gentle click and the act is over as quickly as it had begun. The linked arm moves away and the gorilla man behind them takes her arm with bruising force. Morgan lets him. She’s not going to do anything until she knows what Trevor thinks he knows. She’s steered into a nearby room and shoved into it with little fanfare. The handcuffs are a surprise but it’s not the first time it’s happened. She might almost be offended if they hadn’t. Trevor moves to the other side of the room and crosses his arms; his eyes are dark and unreadable.

“Who are you? And don’t give me that shit about you being Eva. I am…intimately acquainted with her. And you, while stunning, are not her.”

Morgan keeps her face blank as she replies, “My name is hardly important don’t you think?” She’s being cocky, and it’s a dangerous play given her current situation. But she hopes it’s enough to knock Trevor off his game. If she’s lucky he might not think she’s from an agency at all. Trevor’s jaw twitches but beyond that, nothing.

“Perhaps I simply want to know what to call you.”

"You can call me Jane.” She shoots him a teasing smile. His jaw twitches again an she can hear gorilla man take a step closer to her. Morgan refuses to flinch.

“Why are you here _Jane_?”

“The same reason our friend Eva wanted to be here of course. I’m interested in doing a little business. Safer to do it under someone else’s name, no?” Morgan smiles for real now. “Such a pity Miss. Eva hasn’t quite learned how this business works. A pretty face gets you places. But it doesn’t keep you from people like me stealing your identity.”

“And who do _you_ work for?”

“Myself. Usually.” Morgan spreads her fingers and looks at them as if she’s inspecting her nails. It’s slightly difficult but she makes do. Her blasé attitude is working so far. “Tonight though, well…” She smiles up at him. He doesn’t smile back.

“Sergei sent you, didn’t he? He’s predictable, if anything.” He nears the table and starts to tap his fingers on the table in a slow, rhythmic, pattern. It sets Morgan on edge. He pauses to think a moment. “But no. I think not. I do not think for all the money in Sergei’s vault he could get _Clint Barton_ to do his bidding.” It feels like he’s just dumped ice water down her back, it takes a great deal of will power not to flinch. Should have made Clint wear a prosthetic nose or something. Trevor smiles at her and Morgan feels the slime from it from across the table. “I did not get where I am today by being…foolish.” He raps the table with his knuckles suddenly, Morgan jumps a little. “So, let’s cut to the chase…Jane. You tell me who you are, and I’ll consider killing you quickly.”

She doesn’t have a lot of time to think of what to say next. They’re caught before they’d even begun and she’s alone in a room, handcuffed to a table. It’s not good. She drops her smile but not her shoulders. Clint won’t wait forever, he’ll come looking for her soon enough. Trevor only bought himself a few minutes at most. Trevor gives her a second longer and then he nods and before Morgan quite knows what’s happening her head smashes into the table with a loud crack. She sees stars and gasps, blinking rapidly. “You should tell me. My friend here has been itching to get his hands on you all evening.” Gorilla steps even closer, Morgan doesn’t budge. Her head meets the table with another crack and Gorilla is pulling her head back up by her hair. She hears a few of the pins holding it up clatter to the floor. There’s the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. “Shall we continue?” Morgan just smiles at him. Trevor smiles in response but there’s no mistaking the danger in his face. He moves to the door. “Do as you please. Come get me when she talks. I’ll find other ways to…entertain the man.” He opens the door and leaves with little fanfare. There’s a long, heavy, pause before Gorilla tightens his grip on her hair and pulls her back.

“Are you ready?”

“Are you?” Without warning Morgan launches herself up, twisting her wrists painfully but she’s successful in catching gorilla man off guard. He stumbles back, releasing her hair. The relief is instantaneous. She uses her newfound freedom to lift the table up and launch it and herself at the other man. He dodges it and the impact does nothing more than twist her wrists painfully. Morgan is awkwardly draped over the table’s legs, arms stretched out above her head. She growls and jerks the table backwards, trying to launch herself again. Gorilla man grabs her before she gets much further, his fingers digging deep into her neck. He slams her into the table with a growl.

“Tricky. Too bad for you though, no?” His grin is wolfish, and he smashes her head against the table again. The edges of Morgan’s vision blur black and she sags to the floor. Gorilla man barks out a laugh before there’s a loud smashing noise to her left.

“Let. Her. Go.” Morgan’s almost sure that’s Clint’s voice. But it’s thick and raw with more emotion than she’s used to. Gorilla man gurgles once in reply, and it’s soon followed by a loud thump. As her vision clears Clint unlocks the handcuffs and pulls her to her feet, his hands expertly roaming her body to assess any damages. She’s ashamed to admit to herself that she has to lean heavily on Clint in order to stay up right.

 “Clint?”

“Are you able to walk?”

“I-I’m not sure.”

“Damn. Do you trust me?”

“ _Of course._ ” He sweeps her up into his arms and he’s out the door. His tie pin is digging into her side, but she ignores it, throwing her hands over his neck to steady herself.

“Act drunk.” Easy enough. She goes limp, her head rolling about, and giggling. She mutters nonsense for a while until the warm air outside hits her skin and then she just sags into Clint’s chest. His pace doesn’t slow. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. My head is all. I’ll be right as rain in a few hours.” Her head is pounding, she’s pretty sure she’s at the very least sporting a concussion. “Shit, Clint. He knew who we were the second we’d checked in.”

“A risk we knew about going in.” He takes a sharp turn and pauses long enough to put her down. The ground shakes beneath her a moment but she finds her feet. She leans into him and they start a brisk walk down the street. There’s plenty of tourists around and as long as they act mildly inebriated, they shouldn’t look too out of place. Clint leans down to talk to her, pitching his voice low. “The rendezvous hotel is just around the corner. We can crash there for the night and evac tomorrow morning.”

“Please tell me there’s a change of clothes there.” Another corner and they’re standing across the street from a small chain hotel. It’s not nearly as scuzzy as some of the places they’ve been forced to stay but it’s not what Morgan would call…great.

“And a shower.”

“Oh, thank god.” Morgan says as they cross the street and quietly check in under their usual assumed identities. The room is small, one bed and a dubious looking couch, but the bathroom looks clean. Morgan peels herself off Clint and leans against the wall instead as he shuts and bolts the door behind them.

“Morgan?” His hand is on her arm and she opens her eyes to look at him. Her gut twists painfully for the second time that evening when she looks him in the eyes. He’s worried, she can’t blame him. She puts her hand on his and gives him a tired smile. “Let me treat your wrists. You scratched them up pretty bad. And then he’s gone but the dark warmth in her gut remains. He moves towards the closet pulling it open and bringing out a dark duffle bag. He rummages through it a minute before pulling out a slightly bent first-aid kit. He motions for her to sit on the bed and she does, he sits next to her and gently takes her arm in his hand. He’s gentle as he cleans up the scrapes, taking care to clean them thoroughly. His calloused fingers are slow and calm as he wraps her wrists in linen bandages. Neither of them speaks until he finishes wrapping her second wrist. “I should never have let him take you out of the room without me.”

“We had no choice.” Morgan says softly, keeping her eyes fixed on Clint’s fingers. She’s afraid if she looks up at him the dark warmth from earlier will return and she can’t have that. His thumb moves up her arm, his touch feather light on her skin. He reaches her elbow before he jerks away from her entirely.

“Perhaps. But I shouldn’t have let it happen regardless.” Morgan scoffs and the warmth in her gut evaporates instantly.

“He’d have never let it happen any other way. Said so himself.” She pulls her arms up to examine her wrists. It could have gone worse…but it could have gone better. “We were doomed from the start. So much for catching him red handed, huh?”

“Yeah.” Clint stands from the bed and heads to the window, looking out through the gauzy curtains. The lights of Dubai are brilliant. For a cheap motel it’s got a pretty nice view. He pulls the thicker curtains closed, enveloping the room in the warm glow of the electric lights. Morgan watches him a moment longer before standing herself.

“Clint. I…I need help getting out of this dress.” She’s loathe to ask him to help her right now, it’s clear he needs time to himself, but she can’t get out of it without him. He doesn’t turn from the window for what feels like an eternity. When he does his expression is unreadable. She turns her back to him. His hands are warm on her shoulders when he places them there, his right hand moving to find the little zipper holding everything together. The warmth from before resurges with a vengeance and Morgan tries in vain to stamp it out. He starts to pull and his other hand traces down her side in time with the slowness of the zipper. His breathing deepens.

“You really were beautiful tonight, Morgan. I meant that.” His voice is hushed and husky. And Morgan finds herself at a loss for what to say. They stand there like that for a moment longer, neither saying a word.

And then it’s over his hands are gone. Morgan finds she misses them. The tension in the room is thick enough she can almost see it and it feels like her heart is about to pound out of her chest. She holds the dress to her chest with one hand and uses the other to grab the first thing she sees from the go bag on the bed. Clint says nothing as she slips away into the bathroom, breaking the heavy tension in the air. When Morgan emerges Clint’s laying on the couch, his back to the room, silent. She drops the dress unceremoniously to the floor next to the bag and slips into the bed, hesitating just a moment to watch the rise and fall of Clint’s chest, her thought’s running rampant in her head. It doesn’t take long for sleep to overtake her.

When they wake in the morning the strange and electric tension has evaporated. And neither of them speaks about it on the way home.

**New York, 2012**

It’s surprising to Morgan that her first reaction is to cry. To allow herself a few, brief, moments where it’s okay to miss a friend. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed by what Morgan can only see as insurmountable odds. So she cries for a moment, face buried in her hands, tears pushing out between her fingers. A minute passes and then two, and then Morgan pulls herself together. She stands from the bed as Clint and Natasha come back in, wiping the last of it from her face. They say nothing. She can’t bring herself to look at Clint just yet, but she finds some comfort in the brush f his shoulder as he passes by her. One more wipe of her sleeve and she moves to stand next to Natasha.

“Any word on Loki yet?”

“None. He took a jet and just vanished.”

“He’s got to be going somewhere—” She stops as the door slides open again, apprehensive when she notices its Steve standing in the doorway.

“It’s time to go.”

“Go where?” Nat asks.

“I’ll tell you on the way. Can either of you fly one of those jets?”

“I—” Clint interrupts, stepping out of the bathroom, drying off his hands.

“I can.” Steve hesitates and looks from Clint to Morgan and Nat. Morgan nods, just a fraction of a movement and Steve nods back. His trust in her on this makes her knees rattle.

“You got a suit?” Clint nods and tosses the towel to the floor. Steve is already halfway out the door before he speaks again. “Then you’d better suit up.”


End file.
